


Judge/Jury/Executioner

by courierhawk



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aborted Villain, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, Violence, azulon is the worst person, finale bad end, teenage ozai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courierhawk/pseuds/courierhawk
Summary: The final battle under Sozin’s Comet goes terribly awry, leaving the world in ruins with only a distant hope of recovery. But at the final hour, Sokka is put into contact with a certain spirit who rewinds him to a time before that fateful battle, before the Avatar was found, before Fire Lord Ozai was ever a threat in anyone’s mind.Sokka has a strong will and a stronger sword, and he’s given the opportunity to end a tyrant before they become one.But can you slay someone who hasn’t yet committed a crime?And if he did, what would that do to the world?





	1. Prologue: Extinction

**Author's Note:**

> “My past is everything I failed to be.”  
> ― Fernando Pessoa

 

They were falling, end over end, in a world of fire. 

While Avatar Aang was locked in combat with Fire Lord Ozai, airships were crumbling, and falling out of the sky. Like so much refuse, metal bent and broke, crashing together and grinding with enough noise to make a war sound peaceful. 

Sokka was running across the top one shattering zeppelin, feeling like his world was falling apart just like the ships he’d just destroyed. He really did a number on them, to disastrous effect.

First, he lost Suki, somewhere far behind them as the metal split in two between them. Sokka had yelled her name, just before he lost sight of her. Soon enough only splitting metal was the only thing he could see. 

Then as the fleet crumbled to its final legs, the smooth metal beneath their feet collapsed inward, and Sokka lost his hold on Toph’s arm. Heartbeat racing into a rising panic, he called out for her uselessly, falling out of sight as the ship tilted to the side. His feet slid rapidly down the hull, trying to stabilize himself with a blade that sank much too easily through sheets of iron. 

He lost them. Lost them both. 

Sokka finally managed to claw his way back upright, where he wasn’t in danger of falling down to oblivion, but by the time he’d made it up, Toph was already missing. He ran across what little of the ship was still intact, calling out for her, for Suki. Though with the crashing, the noise, it would take nothing less than a miracle for his voice to reach him or theirs to him. 

And Sokka didn’t believe in miracles. 

He started to cough and choke as the blanket of smoke from the flames the Fire Lord had loosed upon the land finally rose up high enough to reach him. Or for them to have sunken low enough to….

He didn’t get the chance to really think it through. Sharp  _ pings  _ of bolts flying from their sockets caught the warrior’s attention before the surface he was standing on veered upward abruptly as it disconnected from the rest of the ship. It was so unexpected and fast that Sokka didn’t get a chance to steady himself. He was thrown from his place as the ship split, rotating slowly. As he passed near the underside of the zeppelin, Sokka barely managed to catch a hold of a long piece of catwalk, howling in pain at the strain it put on his fingers. He dropped his sword, the spinning black blade flung up out of sight. 

The treeline was in sight, rushing by rapidly as the falling ships got closer and closer to the ground. 

The first impact jostled Sokka’s hands lose, and he was forced to let go before the pressure broke his fingers. He closed his eyes at the rush of wind surrounding him, flying from the wreckage. Sokka was helpless to wherever he would land. 

The charred skeleton of a squat tree broke his fall, collapsing into ash and crumbly coal beneath his body. Sokka survived the crash, but only just. Upon striking the ground, an audible set of cracks heralded his spine fracturing in several places, and through the cloud of agony that assaulted him, Sokka realized with a dim certainty that he couldn’t get up. Even if he could fight through the pain with everything he had, with a broken back, his body just couldn’t physically support itself anymore. It was an utter ruin of an injury that would be certain to permanently debilitate him if he even survived the day.  

And, just when he thought that was the worst, the distant sound of wind reached his ears. Sokka looked up to the sky, seeing a blur of plummeting metal and turned away from the sight. 

The searing sensation of Sokka’s own sword sinking through his chest was impossible to ignore. The blade pierced all the way through, impaling him like a fish on a spear. 

In some ways, the irony was the worst part. The warrior attempted to wrestle with the hilt for just a few moments, thinking to pull it out, humiliated by the very thought of dying on his own sword. But his hands were shaking and useless from pain, tearing gashes in his palms on the razor-sharp black iron before dropping his hands to his sides, defeated. 

Sokka closed his eyes, breathing hard. 

This was how it would end. 

He was lying on a bed of ash and charcoal in the middle of a destroyed forest, a swath of destruction far larger in scale to the land devastation that had angered the Hei Bai spirit. The worst of the fire had moved on, but embers and smaller blazes still surrounded him, and sooner or later, they’d take him too. And there was nothing Sokka could do but lie there and wait for it to happen. And who knew if Toph and Suki were alright. 

His cynicism reared its head again. _‘Mucked it up again, didn’t you?’_

They could still be alright. He didn’t know. Sokka clenched his jaw, shaking madly, and tried not to think, knowing how close he was to breaking down. 

At the very least, they’d stopped the Fire Lord, right? Even if he died for it, that meant something.

But when he opened his eyes, the sight in the sky stopped him cold. The horizon was awash with colors of blue and red, flickering, growing and shrinking. Slowly, inevitably, the crimson light swallowed up everything until it’s rival vanished entirely. This was heralded by a victorious wave of flame, spiraling high into the sky. 

The dread that fell upon everything was unsettling, frightening. And it sent his instincts haywire. 

Sokka raised his hand to the sky, waiting for the sound of wind, rushing of water, crashing of rock. A voice. Anything to tell him that the worst hadn’t happened. But there was nothing. Nothing except for the sound of fire, cracking and consuming everything. 

And Sokka  _ knew _ as he dropped his hand, in that horrifying moment, that his best friend was gone. 

There wasn’t a force in the world that could stop the tears then. 

He didn’t know how long he laid there, unable to move, unable to do anything but think about how badly they failed. Sokka started to cough and choke, spitting out blood. The sword had ruptured something inside him, causing him to bleed both inside and out. It wouldn’t be long now. 

It was the cool sensation of someone’s hand wrapping around his that startled Sokka back to awareness. His gaze shifted, turning to his right side to find a beautiful young woman sitting on the charred ground next to him, long white hair flowing like water down her shoulders. She was immaculate; the dust and ash didn’t so much as mar her pale dress, and drifted away in the air without touching her. Even the blood running off his hands couldn’t do anything to stain her. The air around them had grown quiet, almost muted, and a calm aura bubbled in the warrior’s chest that eased his racing heart and slowed to dripping of blood. When she held onto his hand, the pain dulled, like a cool compress for a pounding headache. 

“Yue…” He rasped, fighting through everything just for the chance to speak to her, “I’m sorry--”

Yue used her free hand to press a finger to his lips, a small, bittersweet smile on her face. “Please don’t. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.” Sokka shook his head weakly, wanting to disagree, but she pushed on regardless, “I don’t want to see you hurting yourself like this.” Yue quieted, a wounded look appearing in her gaze.

For a moment, they looked out over the ruined landscape, fire and fallen metal as far as the eye could see. Maybe they were in over their heads right from the beginning. 

“Did you come because I’m going to die?” Sokka said, voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew it from the moment the words left his mouth, but couldn’t take them back. Yue was already so sad,  _ for him.  _ There was no reason to twist the damage further. But curiously, the words only seemed to make her straighten up, a more determined countenance coming over her. “No, Sokka. This isn’t the end. I’m going to save you.”

“...What? Why?” He couldn’t understand. The Fire Lord had won. The war was lost. What good could there come from saving him _now_ , after everything was said and done?

She looked briefly disappointed before continuing on in a certain voice, “Because there’s still hope.” Yue didn’t give him a chance to give words to his confusion before she turned her head and gestured at the offending sword still implanted in his body. “Did you know that the heavens remember, Sokka? When a shooting star fell on this world, you took it and made it into your weapon,” She paused, admiring the sleek blade, the blade that Sokka made with his own hands. And then turned towards him again, “But there was a memory inside it too. It is a memory of the last time the foreign metal within that sword circled this world.”

In spite of how his mind was growing progressively more muddled and hazy with blood loss, Sokka’s mind was still working madly, “The...last time….” The past? That’s what she meant?

“I can’t force you. I won’t,” She said, somber. “If you want me to...to let you go. But there is one more chance to fix this. With your sword, we can send you back to that time, using this memory as a waypoint. Before any of this ever happened.”

Despite the pain, Sokka’s eyes brightened in shock. If he weren’t paralyzed and pinned to the ground, he would have jumped to his feet. “You...can do that?”

“Well, not alone.”

And for the first time since she had appeared before him, Sokka noticed that Yue wasn’t the only spirit in his presence. There were the shapes of other spirits all around, hanging close by, far more translucent and indistinct but undoubtedly present. The air seemed filled with fog, the world rendered surreally silent by their very presence there. He stared for a moment as they waited silently, hanging on his word, and started to understand. 

Aang talked about spirits and balance and for longest time Sokka had derided it. To be honest, he still saw a lot of spirituality as being unnecessary, but…. Spirits were real, he knew that. And what happened here affected them as well. Them, his world, his people...they all needed this decision. Lived and died for it even. Even if part of Sokka may have wanted to give up, he couldn’t. He had an obligation for everyone he cared about to keep going.

“Yes…” Sokka said, with all the certainty his battered body could muster. “I want to try.”

“Thank you…” Yue smiled, soft and sincere for a moment, before her expression sobered. "Fire Lord Ozai is at the center of this vortex. In order to undo this, you must stop him from reaching this point and prevent this tragedy from ever happening."

"By any means necessary," Sokka said, feeling his hands curl into tight fists. 

Yue stared quietly and lowered her face, "If that's what has to be done." A moment passed and the girl turned spirit lifted her hand to the sword’s handle, pausing just before her fingers touched the surface. “We don’t have any more time, but I can only warn you that this will hurt. I...I won’t be able to shield you from it, Sokka. I’m sorry.”

He nodded firmly, closing his eyes and bracing himself. 

Sokka was already beginning to fade away. It had to be now or never.

Yue’s own nerves steeled as she wrapped both of her hands around the grip of the warrior’s sword. She was only partly corporeal, but the weapon’s otherworldly metal responded to her, to the call of the moon. A glow spread from her fingers and over the hilt, down the length of the metal. The spirits who gathered to her side pooled their power into her grasp. Enough to tear a hole into Now and Then. It wouldn’t last; maintaining the power to open a doorway through time for longer than a moment or two was far beyond the power of any amount of spirits. Not daring to hesitate, lest this fail, Yue tightened her grip and yanked the sword up out of Sokka’s chest. His howl of pain was agonizing to hear on so many levels. Her hands shook from the torture. 

And then she cut it short, plunging the blade down into his heart. 

With a sudden rush of air, they were enveloped in white light, consuming her, the blade, Sokka. Everything else disappeared into the abyss, out of existence. And the world moved backwards. As Then became Now, everything after it crumbled. 

 

The world’s clock rewound thirty-two years into the past.

 

To the last memory of a shooting star, and a hope for a better future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time travel au with a dash of trolley problem. Been looking forward to this


	2. driftwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he wakes

 

 

When Sokka woke, it was with a choked gasp, coughing and breathing hard like a drowning man who’d just been pulled from the ocean.

And, shocked by the sudden sensory overload, he sat up from the ground without thinking about it.

What was surprising was that he was actually capable of doing that.

Sokka instantly laid back down anyway, paranoia sending his heart racing with an anxious energy. His back wasn’t broken anymore, the pieces of his spine no longer felt out of place or ruined in a way that hindered him. Healed, or, never hurt in the first place. Sokka raised his hands to his chest, trailing over the unblemished blue armor where his injury used to be, numb with awe.

It actually worked.

But despite the lack of any real damage, he felt painful twinges in his back and hands. Phantom pains that his mind remembered clearly even when his body no longer bore them.

It was unsettling, to remember that so clearly.

Not just the pain, either. For one brief moment when his sword had plunged into his heart, Sokka felt something, something that he had no name with which to describe except for ‘death.’ A small flickering sense of hyper awareness, followed by overwhelming exhaustion and a cold so deep it was only comparable to being frozen into a block of ice and cast deep into the waters of the South.

Aang might know.

He felt that sensation, came so close, and escaped to another day. He was a dead man walking. Sokka shivered, even though the air around him was warm and pleasant.

“You’re awake,” Sokka looked up at the voice, finding Yue sitting calmly next to him, legs folded primly under her. The young woman’s form was more transparent than it was before, and he could easily see right through her to the scenery beyond. His sword was laying next to her on the ground unassumingly, sheathed and ready for him to reclaim it.

“Yue...it worked…?” She nodded, looking pleased, and Sokka turned to take in their surroundings. He was lying in a clearing in a sparse woodland, trees and saplings stretched up around him, and the bed of grass was thick and springy, full of life. “We’re...still in the same place, right?” Yue confirmed it, and couldn’t help but to stare with a shell shocked wonder at what was a field of charred trees and ash only moments ago. Sokka took a moment to collect himself before continuing on in a stronger voice, “How far back did you send me anyway?”

“I don’t have a connection to the world the way I did before, so I can’t determine the exact date but…” She took a deep breath before continuing, “We’ve traveled through a lot of time; thirty-one, no...thirty-two years from the moment we left.”

Thirty-two years. That was twice Sokka’s lifetime they’d just moved back.

He laid there in silence for a while, taking in the knowledge of just how much had changed. Many of the people he knew in his own...time (was that even the right way to say that?) weren’t even born yet, Toph, Zuko, his sister, and _himself_. Now that was strange. Was aging still an issue or did time not have the same hold him that it did before. Was he really even _here?_ If he hung around too long, would there be two Sokkas walking around?

_One thing at a time._

He was going to give himself nightmares thinking too deeply about that.

Sokka felt the breeze flowing gently over him, hooting of catowls, and dark skies filtered through the tree branches overhead. Aang would be more affected by this than him, but it was still unsettling in a way, to know what all this eventually turned into. _If he didn’t stop it, that is._

Sokka pressed his hands into the soft earth to push himself up and rising to his feet, taking his sword and reattaching the sheath over his shoulder. He looked back at Yue, her transparent form still sitting right where she started, “Are...you coming with me?”

“Yes, but...I’m going to need some time to rest. Opening that path took so much out of me….” Yue saw him looking and caught his concerned eye to pull up a smile, “Don’t look so upset, Sokka. I’m not going anywhere, not really. I’m not the heart of the moon anymore, not with Tui back where she belongs, I’m...bound to night but I don’t embody it. I’m just adrift just like any other wandering spirit in the world. I may not have the Moon Spirit's power anymore, but I have the freedom to speak freely with you whenever the sun sets and the sky above you is clear.”

“We’ll see each other again soon?” Because despite her assurances to say as much, Sokka still felt like he was bracing himself for an oncoming blow.

“Yes, I promise you. I’ll be here, even if you can’t see me.”

Sokka didn’t always have the best track record when it came to believing in things he couldn’t see or touch, and even now there were some spiritual topics he didn’t want to broach, but he trusted Yue. Even still he couldn’t watch her fade away after that last sentence, and turned away.

It was guaranteed to bring more memories than he was prepared to handle at the moment.

In a moment though, he was alone in almost every sense of the word.

And even through the remaining haze in his mind that apparently came from traveling through time, Sokka knew that the first thing he had to do was find a way to the Fire Nation as soon as he could. He no longer had access to a flying bison and airships didn’t exist yet, so that meant getting a hold of a boat at the nearest port. Either by stealing one or hitch-hiking since he didn’t have any money to spare...on anything, preferably the latter option. Sokka vaguely recalled there being a port city north-east on his maps.

Hopefully it was still there now.

Sokka sighed to himself, _‘Better than nothing_.’ He oriented himself by the stars overhead, facing eastward and started walking.

Eventually, the trees around him started to thin out over time, and then ceasing entirely to give way to rocky outcroppings and cliffsides. Sokka headed north along them until the terrain evened out enough for him to see the ocean stretching out across the horizon, rippling with white caps, and climbed down to the edge of the sheer cliff face that passed for a shoreline. It took hours traveling north along the cliff’s edge for the altitude to begin leveling out until the water lapped at gravelly shore, the rising sun peeking out through the clouds.

When he could reach the water’s edge, Sokka took the chance to take a nap there to rest up. He spent the rest of the early morning hours whittling a spear and used it to catch himself a fish for breakfast, scaling and cooking his meal as daylight spread over the world. _‘There’s not much to do out here,’_ Sokka groaned, flicking a fish bone over his campfire idly, and wrapped up the remainder of his meal in a scrap of cloth to save for later. He wasn’t used to traveling by himself like this, and Yue needed to rest apparently.

There was just...no one to talk to right now.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about it for too long, as traveling by day was much smoother, and Sokka made good time. As he rounded the corner of a hillside, he found himself looking over a small port town on the other side, unassuming under a pale dawn.

Unfortunately, despite the size of the town, there was still noticeable Fire Nation activity present in the soldiers moving to and fro near the coastline, loading supplies into their ships. But he was too far away to see much else. It was too dangerous for Sokka to walk straight in wearing his armor out in the open. It was smart enough to assume that a Fire Nation-controlled town would give a fully-armed Water Tribe warrior too much wayward attention than he would like.

In order to get a better view and avoid the guards, Sokka had to resort to “acquiring” another disguise for himself from the drying racks. After tying his spare clothes into a bundle and slinging it over his shoulder, Sokka slipped onto the streets and moved into the town proper, just like the last time he’d planned to sneak into the Fire Nation.

That seemed so long ago now.

As it turned out though, only a handful of boats were moored at the dock. Most of them were Fire Nation light cruisers that may have on the small side for metal ships, but still towered high above what an average sailor would bother with. The local fishing boats were more to his taste, but most of them that Sokka saw there were made for a larger crew in mind. Things that would be tough for a single person to operate.

One of the Fire Nation ships though, Sokka couldn’t ignore. A sheer cruiser currently empty of its crew, which a familiar raptor emblem flying on their flag in the breeze. Out of all the things Sokka forgot, he still remembered that. Raiders.

Pacing down the pier slowly, as if in a daze, Sokka pulled out his sword. He was standing in the shadow of the towering ship, and a glance to the side told him that none of the few walking bystanders could see him from this angle. Swiftly, as if trying not to think through what he was doing, Sokka reversed his grip on the handle and stabbed his blade into lowermost section of the hull, mere inches above the calmy lapping waves. The obsidian-black sword sheared into it almost too easily, and he yanked it back out at an angle and pushed it back into its sheath.

_‘Try navigating to the Southern swells with ship full of seawater.’_

Sokka fled the pier as casually as possible after that, trying to take his mind off it. Why did he risk himself like that? And...now that he thought about it, his mom was alive right now, wasn’t she?

Focus.

Sokka still needed a ship. Speaking of which….

Only one vessel stood out from the others: a single, sturdy catamaran left at the furthest end of the docks. Sokka had heard about these types of crafts before, variations of which used by islanders of the easternmost reaches of the Fire Nation and southern Earth Kingdom, but it looked less complex than he’d imagined it to be. The craft was light and speedy compared to his other options, and small enough for Sokka to pilot it by himself as long as he needed to. The sails were bundled down almost sloppily (easy to detach in a hurry), and a tilting fishing pole left there by some clumsy fisherman. The owner had obviously been using it early in the morning for a quick fishing run and just returned to port.

That could be convenient for Sokka at least.

He wasn’t normally the type to jump to steal. But there were times when necessity outweighed other concerns, or at least, that’s how he justified it to himself. This was...less damning than stealing from Wong Shi Tong’s library, right? Either way, he needed to leave immediately if he didn’t want to see the actual owner come back before he finished casting off.

Sokka hopped onto the catamaran, adjusting his stance as the opposite hull bobbed wildly from his momentum, and instantly got to work untying the dock-line and pulling up the crude anchor. As the warrior let out the sail and tossed his bundle and the forgotten fishing pole into the storage in the hull, he felt the chill of glances from the shore. He wouldn’t be left undisturbed for long.

Sokka braced the flat of his foot against the pier and pushed off hard, and the addition of some well-timed rowing had him drifting rapidly away from the shoreline. Raising voices from the the dock only made him pick up his pace. And just when Sokka worried that maybe his plan had been too hasty, the wind finally picked up and saved him.

The first gust filled out the sail immediately, pushing the boat forward so quickly Sokka had to brace himself on the mast or stumble.

The wind came at the perfect time, as though the Avatar himself had called it.

Unable to do anything but laugh at the exhilarating sensation of wind and salty spray in his face, Sokka could only savor his first chance to put his hands on a real sailing vessel in ages, feeling at home on the waves again.  He braced his feet hard on the hull and pulled on the mast hard enough to tilt the boat, sending the catamaran curving away from the rapidly disappearing speck of the town on the horizon. The light craft took to his directions with a brilliant ease, jumping across the smaller waves like the motion of a skipped stone.

High on adrenaline and salty air, Sokka aligned his direction by the sun overhead, aiming to make a beeline for the Fire Nation.

The memory of his fall from airships, of their destructive loss under the light of the comet, at the hand of _that man,_ was enough for the warrior to narrow his gaze in determination.

.

.

.

 

_Elsewhere, the figure of a fourteen-year old prince jerked to attention, peering out the window of his chambers as an unwelcome chill went creeping down his spine. There was nothing out there, not even a silent bird, and he turned away._

_His brother once told him that the creeping feeling was caused by your spirit sensing when others are talking about you behind your back._

_It was utter nonsense._

_He didn’t believe it. Not at all._

_The prince threw open the window as wide as possible, if only to spite his own unease._

_After all, Crown Prince Iroh was nothing but a liar and a manipulator, and one day everyone would know it. There wasn’t anything he could teach that Ozai could ever truly trust._

_He was one of Agni’s chosen, there was no reason for the spirits to chill his soul._

_There was no reason for him to fear._

_And he didn’t. Yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introduction are over, yes?


	3. setup

 

In the heart of spring, the Fire Nation once had a celebration made to honor the mighty dragons that lived among them. The dragons were built of balance and life, and so their rite was held during the week of the spring equinox. The symbolism behind the dragons was, of course, omitted in most current history books, but no one really knew enough to bother to talk about that. 

The dragons were long since gone now, but the celebration wasn’t. The Fire Nation recycled those days into something more fit for the current lordship and his policies. It was soon re-tailored to be a way to honor the current Fire Lord, and the war effort of course. Made to call attention to the victors and the preserved honor of the fallen. The observance of the week was made to be more somber than anything, so the most eye-catching decor was kept to a minimum. Or, at least, less though comparatively to most Fire Nation embellishments. 

The only reason why Prince Ozai cared enough about the history to know about this was because his birthday was set at the tail end of the week long observance, and he had been curious if it had any significance he could claim. 

As it was, it wasn’t much of one. 

The week was just beginning, and the Prince was watching from a balcony as the last of the fragile lanterns were strung from the archways. Under the early morning hour, they were still  glowing just a bit before the rising sun would take away their brilliance. He took them in without really seeing them, mind focused on something else that even took away the effect of the calming scent of incense that was drifting out his open door. 

Crown Prince Iroh was leaving for Earth Kingdom waters tomorrow afternoon. His brother’s retinue was already being prepared in the docks, cargo being loaded into the ship in preparation for his departure. Ozai could see the evidence of that from his window. It was, somehow, frustrating. But it wasn’t surprising either. The Fire Nation royal family was hardly ever present in the same place anymore (and if they ever were, it wasn’t for very long regardless). It had been that way for a long time. The importance of the war and differences in position made sure of that. 

Unlike Iroh, Ozai was not considered for military honors, so he would be remaining home. Again. That was the norm; Iroh left for glory and riches, and his brother made do with the royal tutors and a court that ignored him. And Father’s dour face was a poor companion. 

Day in a day out, the predictability was stagnant and irritating on his nerves. 

Sooner or later, Ozai would need to do something to relieve it. If everyone kept dragging their feet about his acceptance into military training, there were still other options. It was a well-known fact that the royal family of the Fire Nation underwent trials unique to themselves. But for a young man who hadn’t left the capital in recent memory, it was a difficult journey to undertake. But if his father and brother could both attempt it, then surely….

“Ah, I thought I’d find you here,” A voice from behind brought Ozai out of his musings, turning around to find the door to his chambers open, with Prince Iroh standing there. 

Ozai wrinkled his brow in frustration.  _ Speak of the beast and he shall appear. _

Iroh was decked out head to toe in ornamental regalia, polished headpiece sitting proudly on his head. And despite all of his formal wear, he still couldn’t even be bothered to knock. Because no matter how well he carried himself, Iroh couldn’t extend that respect to his sibling. 

His older brother was an inordinately skilled firebender, charming enough to woo women of numerous backgrounds, and impeccably polite to both soldier and noble alike. Fire Lord Azulon’s perfect son in almost every respect, and first pick for the war front. 

Ozai hated him. 

It wasn’t just that he could never stop talking, or never lost a duel, or the implacable aura of calm. (Or Ozai’s own dull, aching jealousy that boiled like pitch and never went away.)

It was because under all the shine and poise, Iroh was a manipulator at heart. A liar.

Untrustworthy. 

“What do you want, Iroh?” Ozai said, glancing back out the window even as he stepped away from the balcony. The overview of the sprawling city--despite its unfinished decor--was admittedly still a more entertaining sight than whatever the Crown Prince wanted. “I figured you’d still be busy with your captain for your send-off tomorrow or what have you.”

The older man laughed to himself, “No, I hurried things along just this one time. The officers might need a break from the excitement every once in a while.” Iroh gestured at the open door in an obvious summons, “Come and talk with me for a while in the library. I have something of importance to talk to you about, brother.”

“I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind,” Ozai said, turning away from him completely. 

“Really? You’d rather just...sit here and sulk in your room by yourself?” Iroh asked, and the younger of the two could practically sense the amused smile making its way across his face. Despite how unpredictable the man could be, his outward moods made the rounds enough to know when Ozai could tell when his brother was silently laughing at him. This time however, the Crown Prince did not brush him off. “As much as I’d like to walk out the door right now, this is a matter that cannot wait. Come on, Ozai, don’t make me pull rank on you.”

“You’re going to  _ order _ me to have a chat?” 

“Would you do it otherwise?” Ozai had nothing more to say to that. He was right, of course he was. When wouldn’t he be right? And when would that day finally come?

Ozai grudgingly followed Iroh out into the halls and down to the library, dully noting that the room had been cleared of any other upper class visitors. The only thing of note was the far table that Iroh led him to, which was topped with a stack of papers covered in scrawled writing. The Crown Prince gestured for him to take a look at them, while taking a seat himself. The set was familiar; a few of them consisted of the letters Ozai wrote to procure a ship and crew, or a official post. Mixed in with them must have been the actual responses he was waiting for. Ozai picked them up curiously, only for his unknowing expression to quickly turn into one of upset the moment he started reading through the words. 

Tossing the written rejection back onto the table, Ozai leveled his glare at his brother, “What’s the point of this, Iroh?  _ ‘Request dropped by executive order?’  _ Did you do this?!”

“I wasn’t the one who applied for these resources without consulting anyone,” Iroh said, unconcerned. “Besides, there’s no point in giving my approval for this. The war effort is already handled well in hand, and it wouldn’t help anyone to send a barely trained prince out onto the front lines.” His delivery was even, but the moderation of the tone didn’t soften the words.

“Then maybe  _ someone  _ ought to give me access to the advanced training, Iroh.”

The man sighed, reaching for the letters and re-sorting them into a neat little pile, taking his time doing so while his brother fumed. “Like, I said, the issue is being handled fine without you. There’s no need to put extra burden on the troops,” Ozai growled at that, but the older Prince just talked over it regardless, voice light and faintly mocking. “You’re still young anyway. Relax. You should focus on your portraits instead, they’ve gotten better since the last time I saw them.” 

Ozai’s fists clenched, and leaned over to rest them on the laquered wood. “So you have to take this from me? Making this week even worse for me, of course.” 

The Crown Prince cocked his head curiously, “Are you angry because I won’t be able to be present for your birthday celebration this year?”

Ozai grit his teeth, silent. He never showed. Ozai stopped expecting otherwise a long time ago.

Iroh rose, taking the letters and straightening out his chair. He made his way over to the exit, but paused on the threshold to speak to him before stepping out the door, “You shouldn’t be so hung up on this, Ozai. Not everyone is cut out for this anyway. The Military is made of sterner stuff than you would expect.”

And then he was gone, thankfully. 

Ozai paused there for a while, nails digging into his palms, before straightening up. 

He didn’t know what he expected to come from this. 

He made a push for something to bring him personal honor and glory, or even just to relieve the mediocrity, but Iroh pulled the rug out from under him. Of course. It had to be him anyway, his father couldn’t seem to find the time to do anything besides coldly berating him, so Iroh would step up to send an (unwanted) message. But that was how things had been for a long time. 

If only Iroh hadn’t caught his letter….

Ozai made his way to the closest library window, hands set tight on the sill. It was overlooking the courtyard, and the morning light was spilling over the people beginning their morning duties. He looked down at them, not finding anything more than the monotony of everyday life. He wasn’t expecting to find anything interesting among them. 

Anything to change things. 

But something caught his eye among the crowd. Just for a minute, Ozai spied a swordsman standing amid the moving throng. He was motionless, staring up and down the streets. It was strange, but it shouldn’t be anything to make him hesitate. 

The Prince was about to turn away, move on, when the stranger did so first. 

The first thing that Ozai could determine was that they looked out of place, what with his expensive-looking sword (Ozai wasn’t an expert on weapons, but he would remember later that  _ jian  _ weren’t made for foot soldiers), and a foreign tone uncommon in the heart of the capital. For a split second--in a moment so fast Ozai almost thought it didn’t happen at all--the swordsman’s gaze met his. Those were  _ blue  _ eyes. Something that didn’t belong in the Fire Nation. At the very least, he had never seen someone like that before. And then, the crowd surged forward faster, and Ozai quickly lost sight of him, strange figure disappearing into the bustle. 

Later, the young Prince would brush it all off. He would convince himself that he had imagined it or focused too strongly on something that perhaps wasn’t that important. The Prince wouldn’t end up telling anyone about the out of place swordsman with blue eyes, and by that simple inaction, he changed the course of his history.

Instead, Ozai shut the curtains and turned away. He had other things to worry about. 

 

* * *

 

It was midnight when Sokka put his plan into motion.

He’d spent days in the capital preparing to actually enter the royal palace, stressed and lost sleep in the process of hammering everything out. 

This wasn’t like the Day of Black Sun, not by a long shot. Sokka remembered that day clearly. Even though his plan then had been a failure, it was still a huge undertaking, and acquiring the means to get into the capital alone had been comparatively simple. He had to hide the boat, but who knew if he’d still need to use it after coming all the way here. It was just insurance. 

Besides, even if the Day of Black Sun was so much more complicated, Sokka was still putting himself in a lot of danger. (The warrior wasn’t  _ scared,  _ but...it payed to be cautious.) He didn’t have an eclipse to protect him from hurled flames, or a ragtag army and Avatar to fight, tooth-and-nail, at his side. He didn’t have someone who could call up a wave to douse a blaze or tunnel to move them along. And he certainly didn’t have a flying bison to carry him away in a flash if things turned sour. It wouldn’t be easy to turn back if he tried. 

Sokka was trying not to consider that last possibility. 

Getting ahold of the guardsman armor turned out to be the easiest step, albeit a heavier one than he expected. But the night that Sokka finally planned on going through with it was also the night that Yue came back, just as he was tightening the pauldrons on his ill-gotten gear.  

She was out of place sitting there, in that back-alley shed, moonlight streaming down from the busted ceiling, giving her an in. A Princess, spirit or otherwise, didn’t suit the place at all. “You’re going into the palace tonight?” She asked, concern in her voice.

Sokka pulled one of the too loose buckles tight and sighed, “...Yeah.”

“Do you already know what you’re going to do when you see him?”

The warrior paused and looked over to her, finding Yue’s face faintly nervous, anxious for him. “I have a couple of ideas.” It wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking this time. Yue thought she was going to strike Ozai down at the first opportunity. Sokka would be lying if he said he wasn’t considering it, if not out of vengeance, then out of a sense of necessity. He knew there were other options too, some worth exploring. But none so tempting. 

Sokka remembered the night he “died” with utter clarity, including knowing how many people he lost all at once. And even if he wasn’t doing this to exact payment for that crime, there were always preventative measures to fall back on as reasoning. 

Yue’s quiet voice drew him out of his thoughts, “You’ll confront him first, before deciding to go through with it, right?” Sokka nodded, trying to push aside those thoughts. He wasn’t going to lose himself to emotion, not now, on a second chance that was so important. Even if he really wanted to, and the grip of his sword was a comforting weight in his hands. “Things are different now,  _ he’s  _ different; three decades are a long time from the future we remember. It’s just...I don’t want you to do anything you….”

“Yue,” Sokka said, pulling up the most reassuring look he could manage, “I promise, I’m not going in there sword barred. Fact is, I need see him before I make a final decision. I  _ am  _ thinking this through, don’t worry.” 

She let out a little breath, relieved. “That’s all I ask.”

 

They parted then, with another promise to speak again. Soon after, the warrior was dressed head to toe in dark armor, a helmeted mask covering his face, hiding his identity. He stepped out into the open air, mind on a mission. 

The air was completely silent then, and the streets were empty. There was no one around to see him or attempt to stop him beyond the palace guards. 

Sokka used the cover of night to scale the palace wall--the surface easier to grip that water-slicked ice, but harder to maneuver in his cumbersome armor--and found the closest window, prying open the pane with the narrow edge of his sword. After slipping inside, it became a matter of avoiding the other patrols, making his way up. 

When the decor gave way to more ornamental styling, Sokka started checking the rooms. Placing his blade in the locks, easing the doors open just enough to see inside. 

And eventually, he found it. 

 

Sokka paused only for a moment. Taking a breath, he shouldered his sword and stepped inside.


	4. clutch

 

When Sokka first stepped into that room, sliding the door closed and turning to take it all in, he couldn’t help but feel a little underwhelmed by what what he saw.

There was no dramatic first meeting, sudden clash of wills, or thrown accusations for his trespassing. The (now teenaged) Prince of the Fire Nation was fast asleep in his bed, dead to the world and completely unaware of Sokka’s presence in his abode. The hearth was dim with smoldering embers, and the candles extinguished but still leaking remnants of warmth; it hadn’t been long since they’d gone out. And the Water Tribe warrior’s padded boots were rendered practically silent on the red carpet, leaving him free to step inside further. Sokka removed the cumbersome helmet, setting it aside on the dresser as to see better.

The bedroom was luxuriant but simply furnished, and little more than the bed, dresser and end tables adorned with a dish for incense took up actual space in the room. A single window had its shutters cracked open on the adjacent wall, letting a cool breeze filter in.  

The only thing that seemed to add a little life to the room were the handful of paintings hung across the walls. Most of them were scenery paintings that Sokka only glanced over. The exception was a somewhat larger painting on the far wall near the bed. It was a portrait of the very same Prince that Sokka had come to the palace to find. The colors on that one were more vibrant and eye-catching, and glancing once at the bed told him that it was a good likeness.

But a big painting of himself in his own room? That was maybe, a bit much. So Sokka could tell he was already off to a great start with this mission.

Inspection of the room complete, Sokka took a breath and finally turned towards the bed.

The man who he remembered as Fire Lord Ozai was younger looking than he expected, and in this time, he couldn’t be any older than fifteen or sixteen. Long black hair. Relaxed brow. Looked familiar somehow. Hardly the visage of a terrifying destroyer; he wasn’t scary in the slightest.

Sokka leaned back against the wall, watching him and considering.

Option One: Kill Ozai here and now, before he even woke up to confront him. It would be the easiest option, and by far the quickest. It would guarantee that the man would never grow up to unleash devastation on the Earth Kingdom, and Sokka would never have to watch the world burn and people he cared about die around him. There were downsides to that too, like the unknown vacuum of power that would rise up in his place. Sokka had been in the Fire Nation capital just long enough to glean some bits of information about Iroh, who was still a beloved general of the Fire Nation. If Ozai died here, would that man ever change to become the kinder man that existed in the future? Or would something worse happen instead? He had no idea.

But it was also the most tempting option. And Sokka couldn’t deny he wanted that, even if he wasn’t someone who made a habit to sate vengeful urges. He could envision it so clearly though, pulling his sword free in less than a second, bringing it down and–

Sokka’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when said Prince shifted in his sleep, turning onto his side. The scant light from the partially open window moved across him, causing the shadows to shift so that they were darkening the left side of his face in a twist of fate that was as startlingly coincidental as it was enlightening. Because that one movement caused was to show him exactly what the source of that familiar feeling was.

The darkness gathered around that spot produced a similar effect as the scar on Zuko’s face. And that made the resemblance absolutely undeniable, to the point that now he couldn’t unsee it. It was the the lack of a scar that threw off his perception. Ozai looked like his son, so much so that the fantasy of striking him down crumbled instantly.

_Oh, Zuko._  Sokka almost groaned, pressing his palms into his face.

Option one wasn’t actually an option at all. Because by killing Ozai, he’d also be killing his children. Every good or necessary evil committed by them lost forever in a single blow. Not to mention that Sokka would also be losing his friend. To be honest, he just couldn’t sacrifice people he cared about most of all. He couldn’t go through with that, knowing what would happen. And it was incredibly frustrating not to have seen that reasoning beforehand. He had considered killing the man early as an unpleasant but possibly necessary solution to his destroyed future, but the truth was the exact opposite: He needed Ozai alive.

Somehow, Sokka got the feeling that Yue knew the truth from the start. That, no matter how torn up he was about the loss he suffered, killing Ozai wouldn’t help him to fix it. And it wouldn’t help  _them_  either. She was just waiting for him to come to the same conclusion.

Which meant that his choices were actually more limited than he thought at first.

Which were to either wake Ozai up and talk to him, or…kidnap him.

Both plans had flaws and risks. One would give him more control over the situation but would turn the Prince against him from the outset. The other could have the opposite result. Neither was a particularly safe option. There had to be something else.

It was at that moment, as if Yue was still lending her power to him, that the clouds slowly started to part and the moonlight shone down. And illuminated by that glow, were people in dark clothing, scaling the palace just as Sokka had done not too long before. The warrior tensed up in an instant, creeping down low to the windowsill, unlatching it just slightly and leaning in close to catch the whispers on the wind. “You sure you know which room is the kid’s?”

“Don’t worry so much. My source has never led me wrong before. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be sitting pretty with this ransom for the rest of our lives.” Sokka stilled, mouthing the word ransom under his breath and glancing sideways at the still-sleeping Prince.  _‘Well, aren’t you the popular one today,’_ He thought to himself, frustrated with this turn of events.

Wait.

Sokka turned back toward the window, gears in his brain spinning into motion. He could use this. Something better than any of his other plans. The perfect opportunity to both accomplish his mission and deal with this new problem just fell into his lap.

_Option Four._

 

* * *

* * *

 

Ozai never had any high expectations for the respect of his wake up calls, he didn’t expect to be suddenly awoken in the earliest hours of the morning either to heavy thumps on his door. Groggy and frustrated, Ozai shrugged off the sheets, intending on giving whoever was bothering him so late at night the anger they deserved.

But he didn’t expect to see the someone standing in his room wearing full armor and holding a drawn sword. The blade gleamed like shiny obsidian, and looked sharp as could be. Not just that, but he wasn’t wearing a helmet, exposing his face.

It was the swordsman Ozai saw on the streets the other day.

There was no way to mistake those blue eyes and dark tone in the Fire Nation.

Thankfully, the stranger wasn’t preparing to attack him, but instead was bracing himself against the closed door. He wasn’t even looking at the Prince, appearing to be too distracted with whoever or whatever was currently trying to slam their way inside. The wooden barrier creaked dangerously with every strike, and the frame was on the verge of buckling under the strain.

That didn’t stop Ozai from jumping to his feet and assuming a firebending stance, burning heat gathering in his knuckles, prepared to strike in a moment’s notice. “Who are you? How’d you get up here?” The Prince demanded, projecting as much intimidation despite just waking up.

The swordsman glanced his way for a moment before turning back to the door, “Good, you’re awake. Mind lending me a hand with this?” He shifted back when a knife tore a hole in the wood.

“Answer me! Who are you and what do you want here?”

The stranger–he had to be a foreigner–shot him an irritated look and gestured at the door, which was barely in one piece, as if to say ‘is this the time?’ “What am I doing? I’m saving your life, Prince Ozai. The guys on the other side, knocking as loud as they are, they came here for you! Now, would you help a little or do I have to do this by myself?” Ozai didn’t reply. He eyed the door, expression dark and skeptical, but didn’t make a move more than that. “Fine, suit yourself,” and with a sharp, fluid motion, the young man pulled his sword up and sliced cleanly through the wood before him.

Ozai stared as the swordsman launched himself into the hall, clashing with a group of black-clad individuals that definitely were not supposed to be in the palace. Was he actually telling the truth? And if that were true, he was clearly outnumbered.

“Out of the way, Water Tribe!” One of the intruders snarled, drawing a jagged blade out of its sheath, “After today, we’re going to be set for life! And I won’t let some insignificant interloper like you get in my way!” He struck at the black sword’s raised guard in a shower of sparks.

“What are you still doing there?” The young man yelled to Ozai, “Get out of here!”

But in that moment, Ozai found himself struck with a realization, one that prevented him from bolting no matter what the swordsman said.

This was his moment.

He had been denied, over and over again. By his father, by Iroh, and his latest efforts to strike out were just as useless as any other. To bring glory to his name and his country was a simple enough desire, to let him test his limits, but he was never given the chance. Opportunity was finally knocking, literally in some respects. So when the Prince took in the sight of the intruders’ fight, his expression was one of a self-important determination,  _‘No, I’m no coward.’_

The attackers weren’t expecting it. They had surely thought he was some fragile, royal child who never dreamed of war. Underestimating him. So when the Prince ran into the fray, the first gout of flame crashed from his clenched fist and struck the closest man across the chest, where he went down yelling.  _One down._ The others backed up warily at the blow, clearing a space for Ozai and the swordsman, who was staring at him curiously. “What, are you happy now? I’ll see these interlopers out of my home  _myself,”_  He snapped, hands burning with heat and energy.

Ozai had never been in an actual battle before, so his training sessions had to suffice. When the enemies launched themselves in the fray once more, the advantage of surprise was lost, but that wasn’t going to stop them from being defeated. Sooner or later. Ozai didn’t know the more complicated sets, relying on the basic movements, simple and direct.

The swordsman was surprisingly capable; Ozai had honestly expected him to be overwhelmed early on into the fight. One look at him and anyone would assume he was an amateur. At least, no one in the capital would take the time to impart sword skills on a foreigner, he was sure of it. The Prince didn’t know much about swordsmanship in actuality, but the young man was holding his own regardless.

(In reality, Sokka had his hands full compensating for the holes in Ozai’s defense, all the while silently regretting asking him to step in and help.)

As it was, Ozai was caught up in the energy, baring his teeth as the adrenaline took over. As it was, it was only a matter of time until he made a mistake.

And when that moment happened, the Prince quite nearly lost his life. The closest and final kidnapper raised his blade at a vital time, intending on killing his mark if he could no longer capture him alive. Ozai saw the knife coming, but was off guard to be able to stop it. But at the last second, the swordsman’s foot caught him in the knee and tripped him, sending the blade veering wide over Ozai’s head. Without missing a beat, not even giving the man time to react, the young man pivoted, burying his sword in the would-be killer’s chest.

Pushing the body off his sword, the stranger turned to watch Ozai grumbling as he picked himself up off the floor, dusting off the silk sleepwear with a huff. His life was just saved. The realization was a little numbing. The full force of it would sink in later surely, when the Prince really had time to think about it, but at the moment… “Wow, you must have really upset them to have come in numbers like that,” The swordsman commented lightly, cleaning his sword and resheathing it.

Ozai wasn’t having it; the rush of battle was ruined by his near-death experience and the smell of death, and the unwanted comments weren’t helping.

“I  _didn’t do anything,”_  Ozai growled, ignoring the faintly strained expression he received. Instead he vented his frustrations by kicking one of the dead men, only to jump back with a hiss of pain when his bare foot struck hard leather. “Who are you, anyway? You never told me your name.”

“…It’s Sokka,” The swordsman said, sounding a little distracted.

_‘That does sound foreign,’_  Ozai thought. But it doesn’t explain how he knew about the intruders or how he managed to get inside the palace. As much as he owed him (and that alone was an irritation to think about), Ozai still needed more answers than that.

But before he could speak, they caught the sound of a ruckus down the hallway–the sound of guardsmans’ heavy boots charging fast. The sound of the small battle had drawn more than a little attention. Sokka glanced behind them, but they were all but cornered at the far end of the hall. There was nowhere to go, except into Ozai’s open room, the sliced door creaking and hanging off its hinges. There was nothing else to see other than a sturdy window that only that unnaturally sharp sword could probably get through, and an ornamental painted vase sitting just beneath it. Not many options for him to escape.

There was no time left.

A group of over half a dozen soldiers rounded the corner to see them, and leading them at the head–far more dangerous the entire rest of the group combined, was General Iroh himself.

“Ozai, we heard about the break-in and came as fast as we could,” The Crown Prince stated, a flame springing to life in his open palms. “Have you been harmed?” Despite the appearance of outward concern in his words, Iroh’s gaze remained fixed on Sokka warily, the latter of whom had his hand raised halfway to the handle of his sheathed sword. The foreigner’s face was frozen, wide eyes betraying how much he  _did not_ want to be fighting these odds.

Ozai didn’t like it either.

Iroh would kill Sokka. Easily.

As much as his brother infuriated him, Ozai knew full-well what he was capable of. There was no possibility of Iroh losing here. In any other situation he wouldn’t care about the execution of a stranger, but the young man saved his life. The honor of the royal family and his status demanded that he repay that debt somehow, or else it would stain him for time to come. And there were still questions he had to answer.

“I’m fine,” Ozai grumbled taking a few steps back, his hand curling around the rim of the rounded vase. “You’re late, Iroh.”

“My deepest apologies, brother. But now that we’re here, you can step back into your room and let us take care of this.”

Ozai frowned, eyeing the space between them getting smaller as the the guards slowly started moving forward, soon to get into striking range to put an end to things. He only had one idea that might work, just off the top of his head. Ozai glanced at Sokka, who was–luckily–not paying attention to him at the moment. His hand tightened on the vase’s rim. The young Prince didn’t give his older brother the dignity of a proper response, and instead seized up the vase in hands and brought it down on his rescuer.

Sokka only managed a surprised noise when he collapsed, out cold in an instant.

Ozai set the vase down awkwardly, unable to admit he expected it to shatter.

Iroh and his escort moved forward immediately, the older Prince rushing over to check if the swordsman was really unconscious, pulling the scabbard from his shoulder while the guards started to deal with the rest of the bodies. Straightening up, Iroh turned toward his brother, who wasn’t bothering to meet his gaze, “What were you thinking? That was unnecessarily reckless, Ozai. What did you think you were going to accomplish?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Ozai replied. “Also, that’s mine,” He said, grabbing the scabbard out of his brother’s hands.

“Ozai–”

“No, I’m not interested in hearing one of your lectures right now. I was woken up in the middle of the night by a gang of traitors…and him. _I’m_  the one that defeated him, so _I_  get first say, I know what I’m talking about.” When one of the guards edged near the fallen swordsman, hand on his belt as if about to draw his blade to finish him off, Ozai rounded on him, commanding him to stop. “Not that one! I’m calling Conqueror’s Law.”

Whether it was the early hour in the morning or just the subject matter, Iroh didn’t seem inclined to hide his frustration with Ozai this time, “Father isn’t going to be happy about this. The Fire Lord isn’t the fondest of…his kind. You know that, right, little brother?”

“Smoothing things over with father is  _your_  job,” Ozai said, dismissively. “I’m not doing anything against the law. He can’t punish me for that.”

Iroh just sighed, stifling a yawn, “Well, I’m not responsible for whatever trouble you get yourself into this time.”

He turned away, marching back down the hall.

Two of the soldiers dragged Sokka upright and around the corner, where in accordance with Conqueror’s Law, they would deposit the young man in a cell until Ozai decided what he wanted done with him.

The Prince watched them leave and then paced back into his room, ignoring the shattered doorway, turning the sheathed black sword over and over in his hands.

That afternoon, he would make plans to see him again, to deal with his debt, and his questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MVP: vase


	5. conqueror's law

 

 

When Sokka awoke the next day, he had acquired a pounding headache, and while reflecting back where he had obtained it, realized with a rueful expression that he had to stop waking up in new and confusing places. Speaking of which…

Sokka cracked his eyes open to find that he was lying on a rough cot in a simple, stone cell, with no one else in sight. Torches flickered nearby on curved sconces, and with no visible windows in his line of sight, they were the only source of light streaming into the closed off space.

Not his preferred place to be on any level.

Whoever put him in the cell must have also taken Sokka’s sword and armor, since they were both nowhere to be found. Not that Sokka really expected any different. He’d left his boomerang hidden in the shack before infiltrating the palace, so he was sure no one had a hold of it. But still, not useful to his current situation.

The warrior sat up, raising on hand to his head to rub at his temple. The pain didn’t seem like it was going away anytime soon, and it was hard to really focus. Though…it wasn’t hard to figure out _who_ hit him at any rate. “Bastard…” Sokka muttered, almost wishing he’d taken the opportunity to give him a good elbow in gut during their fight earlier. As for _why_ Ozai attacked him… Maybe it didn’t actually go any deeper than the Prince really just being an ungrateful asshole who took advantage of his turned back.

Which honestly wouldn’t be good news for Sokka.

But then, in that case, he could have just used his fire.

Sokka’s thought process was interrupted when he heard a clanging of metal further down the hall, like the sound of another door opening, followed by the distinct noise of heavy booted footfalls. The young man had a feeling it was about the time for him to get visitors.

Sure enough, from further down, he heard the clipped voice of the young Prince telling off his guards, “I can handle myself fine from here. Wait for me in the jailor’s post.” Sokka rose to his feet, kicking the cot’s thin blanket out of the way and leaning his back against the far wall to face the cell door. A few moments later, Prince Ozai stepped into view. He was fully dressed in a red tunic and dark pants, his hair pulled up in a long ponytail that was frustratingly familiar in its own way. For a moment, Ozai didn’t seem to know where to begin, before firmly crossing his arms and spoke up, “You, you said that your name was Sokka, correct?”

“Yeah,” Sokka drawled, “and you’re the prince who knocked me over the head.”

“Some gratitude would be appreciated, outlander,” Ozai snapped, glaring at him fiercely. “In case you forgot, my brother was going to destroy you. I saved your life by acting as I did.”

He went silent then, giving Sokka an expectant look that said warrior balked at. Oh, he actually wanted it to be said right then and there.

Sokka almost groaned out loud. He was aware of the danger he was in before, but there had to be a better way of getting around it than actually attacking him. Still, if swallowing his criticisms kept Ozai satisfied and unsuspicious, it was the better option to go along with it. After a moment, Sokka managed a rough “thanks,” his face forced into a twitching approximation of a thankful look. He was never the best at lying.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” the Prince said, cringing at the expression on his face. Even without knowing the warrior, it was obvious that he could tell just how insincere Sokka really was. Thankfully, the Prince ended up deciding to ignore it, continuing, “You are lucky I’m choosing to ignore your blatant lack of respect. But it’s only because of my debt to you from what happened with those _traitors_ earlier, nothing more.”

Despite how it would be better to leave the topic alone, Sokka couldn’t but point out, “Wait, hold on. You’re still in debt to me? Didn’t you just point out saving me a moment ago?”

“You’re not a Prince,” Ozai said with finality.

The translation there wasn’t hard to figure out: _‘My life matters more than yours, so saving it also matters more.’_

The worst part was that–technically–he wasn’t exactly wrong. Though it wasn’t for the reasons that he expected. Ozai’s life at the crux of this entire time-travel business, to whatever end that served, good or bad. Whereas Sokka suspected that if _he_ failed and died, the world would simply continue onward without him, until the next Sokka was born again in about sixteen years. And that would cause history to repeat.

There was definitely a new wave of aching for his head setting in.

Ozai didn’t bother to wait for him to try to address the mess that was that declaration, continuing on shamelessly, “You’re under a protection because I was the one to strike the deciding blow. I doubt an outlander like you has heard of the law before though…”

Sokka was curious despite himself, “And? What is this law that saved me this time?”

“We call it the Conqueror’s Law, a creation of my father’s and the current circle of war generals. The Law states that any firebender of rank in the Nation may claim rights over the life of his defeated enemies, provided that they personally were the one who delivered the final blow. And that the loser actually _survived_ the fight of course,” As he spoke, Sokka raised a hand up to his chin thoughtfully, considering his situation. _‘Rights over the loser’s life?’_

“So, is this like a death sentence or what?” Sokka asked, not looking up.

Ozai just snorted in response. “It is whatever the victor wants it to be. Whether they want the loser executed in a flashy and unnecessary way, or just want to personally humiliate them. Most options are on the table.” The warrior stiffened, giving the Prince a wary look. Ozai noticed it immediately, “And just what are you suspecting me of having in mind?”

“Nothing, nothing at all!” Sokka made an aborted gesture with his hands. But, still doubting this Law, he blurted out, “And you’re sure that this rule still applies when you’re like…a kid?”

The Prince flushed red, “How– Don’t you dare treat me like a child! For your information, I’ll be fifteen in just a few short days. Plenty old enough to be enrolled in military training by now! If it weren’t for _Iroh_ I would have–” Ozai abruptly stopped talking as though he realized he was about to let something slip he shouldn’t have. Or well, partially did reveal something. The royal brat moved away from the bars, growling something under his breath and pacing.

Sokka just decided to wait this time. He definitely didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Ozai just admitted to still being a fourteen year old. _‘I’m older than you!’_ Sokka wanted to say. But there was no point in antagonizing him further. As it was, it was nearly a whole minute before Ozai moved back to speak to him again.

“Anyway, none of this addresses the fact that you,” he pointed at Sokka imperiously here, as though to make up for his lapse in control, “haven’t told me how or _why_ you came to the palace or anything else. I preserved you for a reason; answer my questions and I can use the Law to help you in return for your service to the royal family.”

Sokka was tempted to point out that he definitely didn’t do what he did for the crown, but he still nearly cringed.

The truth definitely wasn’t going to be an option here.

Hopefully, Ozai was even worse at detecting lies than Sokka was at making them.

“How do you think I got in? The same way as those intruders did. And by the way, scaling the wall is a bit easier than climbing ice cliffs,” He rattled off the easy information first before focusing on the harder bits. “And as for why…well, I didn’t know exactly where those men came from, that they were Fire Nation. I thought that if they succeeded in capturing you, the Fire Nation might retaliate for it, and that would endanger my own home in turn.”

“So…” The Prince cut in, “You just did this for self-preservation.”

Sokka couldn’t help but grin, “I doubt you would believe me if I told you I just wanted to be a helpful stranger to the royal family, right?” Ozai shook his head immediately, but the next words made him perk up. “Besides, you don’t seem to be like your brother and father. I’ve heard some real horror stories from the Earth Kingdom, and to be honest, I don’t feel like they would honor a deal I made with them… Am I wrong?”

“No, you would be correct about that,” Ozai said firmly, “My father would never professionally associate with a Water Tribe no matter what the situation, and–if you ask me–my brother’s honor has been questionable as well of late. He’s not _safe_ at any rate.”

Sokka nodded, though mostly to himself, thinking it over. Ozai didn’t seem like much of a liar to be perfectly honest (at least at this age), but he was also probably incredibly biased as well. Normally, Sokka couldn’t wholly judge the rest of the royal family without seeing them first, even though it was dangerous. All that he knew about Iroh at this point was rooted in rumor and hearsay, so judging how much of a war criminal he was so far was difficult. But of course, Fire Lord Azulon was the exception to that rule. In his time, the man was dead before Sokka fully understood what he had done to the Water Tribe over the decades.

But when he was old enough to learn and find out?

Well, no one thought highly of that name outside the Fire Nation.

That Ozai seemed to have little faith in his father was a relief in own way, even if Sokka was partly curious about the reason for it.

Because that meant he might not have to entirely censor his displeasure around him.

“Hmph,” Ozai scrubbed a foot against the ground, looking somehow more frustrated than before. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected more.” Sokka wasn’t sure why. What exactly was Ozai expecting to have laid at his feet? Something bigger that the warrior’s justifications, apparently. He looked back up Sokka, jerking his head in a summons, “If that’s all then, I’ll fulfill my favor. I’ll have a guard prepare an appropriate boat so you can go ahead and leave.”

It was the mention of leaving that had Sokka’s mind jumping into motion again. He went through all the trouble to get here, he couldn’t leave after all that! But it was at that moment that he remembered a vital piece of information that he overheard one of the intruders say earlier, something that could give him the chance he was looking for.

And as the Prince opened his mouth to call for the guard, Sokka cut him off, “Wait, not yet!”

Startled by his sudden outburst, Ozai took a step back as Sokka moved forward and took hold of the iron bars before him, “What if I told you that I’d rather stay here, in the Capital?”

“I’d say that you were a fool,” Ozai muttered, noticeably perturbed. “I already told you that my father extends a short rope for your kind, you saw what happened last night with my brother, and any sort of foreigners in this city is eye-catching, let alone someone from the Water Tribe. Not that I don’t understand the proud appeal of the Capital, but why would _you_ want to?”

“Look…” Sokka breathed, his hands tight around the bars to his cell, “at the moment, I’m not exactly welcome in my home.” That was, at least, partially true. You couldn’t really be welcome home when you weren’t supposed to exist yet and didn’t have an actual place there. “I’ve violated certain rules in the community that prevent me from just going back,” And there was the flat lie. In reality, the Southern Tribe of this time probably wouldn’t have an issue with him.

Ozai shifted his stance and stared at him, “And what exactly would you want me to do about it?”

“Make me a vassal, or a guardsman or something. You have the Law and I could use the protections from it.” That way Sokka could work within the palace without being worried about blowing his cover and being thrown out or killed. He needed to be close at hand if he wanted his influence to have any effect over the future. And it was functional enough with his story.

“…And what exactly do I get out of this?” Ozai said, sounding vaguely suspicious again.

“Besides a guard, you mean?” The Prince nodded slowly, so Sokka pressed on, “Well, because those guys we fought last night? They weren’t working alone.”

“ _How_ do you know this?”

The warrior had found his groove now, with his story established. But this next part was true and was probably the most important element of his deceptions. “I followed the same route that they took, and was close enough by to hear their conversations. That’s the reason why I was able to get to you first.” Sokka searched his memory for the exact wording so he could do this right, “I remember the leader said the words ‘my source has never led me wrong before.’ So not only did someone who’s familiar with the palace layout sell you out, but have committed more subterfuge of the like in the past.” Sokka tapped at his temple knowingly, “I’m familiar with the methods of people like these, trust me.”

“I wouldn’t call my views on you to be trust, exactly,” Ozai replied, though he was starting to sound less skeptical than before. “Though, if this is true then…the regular security detail wouldn’t be useful in tracking down whoever was responsible for this treachery. Any one of the soldiers on patrol or their immediate supervisors could be a suspected threat.”

He paced back and forth for a moment, shooting a glance at Sokka every now and then.

Hopefully he was thinking over the warrior’s offer.

The young Prince stopped and turned his attention back, “So presumably, if I let you stay, you would do something about this.”

“In return for the protection and a place to stay in the city, I’d be helping you in hunting down the perpetrator so that could prevent what happened last night from repeating itself again,” Sokka gestured casually, downplaying the difficulty of what he was proposing. Working close–in the palace if he had his way–would make things much easier down the line. Not to mention that Sokka’s curiosity to the changes of the past extended beyond just Ozai; there was the Crown Prince to consider, and how Sokka’s presence messed with his situation as well.

Sokka wasn’t looking forward to a position that would put him in close contact with Prince Ozai, even in his current state of mind of not-as-big-of-a-jerk-as-you-will-be. He’d be testing the limits of his tolerance and discomfort, for a unknowable period of time.

Aang would probably tell him to look for a silver lining in it to make his mission more bearable.

Thinking of Aang only make him feel terrible all over again though.

Probably something he should have expected, especially in the present company. It was better not to linger too much on his friends right then. Sokka quickly smothered the upset those memories contained before Ozai could notice anything was off.

“Alright, fine,” Ozai’s voice broke Sokka out of his distractions. The Prince was looking at him with a resolved expression, “It’s an even enough deal I guess, so I’ve decided to take you up on your offer…Sokka. A good vassal is hard to come by these days. Not to mention that with this mess going on, I can’t even trust my own patrol staff to not secretly be traitors behind my back. Though, I will not be going easy on you just because of that. And my father and brother don’t need to know the specifics of our…deal. As far as they’re concerned, you’re staying as a reward for aiding me with the traitors, nothing more.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine. If that’s all, then you can go ahead and call the guard to open the cell, right?” Sokka pressed, pausing uncertainly when the Prince didn’t move away just then.

Ozai looked him over, as if judging him. After a moment, his nose wrinkled in distaste. Not unlike someone who’d just witnessed Sokka spilling soup in his lap. “Not while you’re like that I won’t.”

“Like…like what?”

“You really have to ask? You’re dressed like a peasant!” Ozai exclaimed, gesturing irritably at Sokka’s dirty (stolen) clothes. “I can’t have a vassal in any capacity that looks like I just plucked them right off the street! In order to guard a member of the royal family, you must also look the part.” The warrior in question glanced down at his garb self-consciously, plucking at the cloth lightly. Sokka thought he picked the ones that looked nicest on him, but then he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t look that bad, did he? “Wait here, I’ll call an escort to acquire something more appropriate for this position.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Prince Ozai,” Sokka groaned. But the Prince was already on his way out and didn’t reply.

Though, as it turned out, he didn’t have long to wait. Only minutes after Ozai left, a clicking steps of a few guards rounded the corner, keys in hand. The men stared him warily as they opened the cell and Sokka only grinned smugly in response.

He was led upstairs and out of the prison depths to the jailor’s outpost, who was still on-duty at the time. One of the escorts handed the man a paper (release authorization perhaps?) stamped with a signature in red, and they were quickly let pass with a grumble and a glare. It didn’t seem like anyone he encountered so far was particularly pleased with the Prince yanking foreign prisoners out of cells. Or, it was because he was Water Tribe. And judging by what Ozai said, he needed to omit some details from what the Fire Lord and Crown Prince learned about it. Though, as long as they didn’t get in his way, Sokka didn’t care what they thought.

He agreed to protect Ozai’s life, but not his reputation.

The guards brought him out of the prison walls to the noonday sun beating down on them. Sokka shaded his eyes as he walked, waiting for the spots to leave his vision. But they didn’t leave him outside for very long.

Sokka was brought back to the palace grounds, where, off to the side of the massive structure was a smaller guard barracks so the patrols could work close to where they slept. He was quickly ushered inside as he tried to ignore the lingering stares he got as he walked. They took him to a single room on a lower floor and signalled for him to enter. Just before closing the door in his face, the lead soldier spoke in a rumble, “Prince Ozai said that he will expect for you to be clean and dressed before he returns.” Sokka sniffed, giving the closed door an offended glare and turned to take in the room.

It was a simply furnished personal room with a single bed, side table, and wash basin partitioned off with a thin cloth. Definitely better than the cell, at any rate. The one real downside to these quarters was that there wasn’t a window for him. Sokka would have to sneak out or find other opportunities to talk to Yue again. After a change this big, he needed some of the calm she always exuded.

After a night in the prison though, Sokka was not opposed to cleaning off. Might as well take up the offer. The water was warm when he first dipped into it, and in only moments, he was alert and focused again. His headache was beginning to ebb down a bit as well.

As the young man was drying off, he found the clothes left for him on the side table, a fine black tunic with golden stitching and dark pants. Next to them was a set of armor, more decorative than the set he’d stolen originally and mostly dark reddish colors instead of black. There was no helmet included in the outfit though, maybe because rank or no, people were supposed to recognize his face. Sokka snuck in once before, after all.

Sokka pulled them on quickly, taken off guard by how soft the clothes really were. And he would be lying if he said they weren’t stylish; maybe his new position had some actual perks to it after all.

When Ozai returned, he knocked only once on the door before barging in, taking a look Sokka in his new armor and nodded, “That’s passable.”

“Do I also get a weapon?” Sokka pressed, “I can’t exactly guard you with my hands.”

“You probably could for a while,” Ozai said dully. Sokka leveled him with a flat expression, unable to tell if those words combined with that tone was supposed to be a compliment or not. “You won’t getting back your sword until you’ve proven that you can be trusted here. And no, apparently saving the Prince doesn’t count,” Ozai growled. Judging from his attitude, he did not agree with the words he was saying, “In the meantime, I can allow you to have this.”

Ozai handed the warrior a sheathed sword and scabbard, simple in design. It was one of those curved sabers, ones that Sokka had seen on rank-and-file soldiers many times before. He pulled the blade halfway from the sheath to find that the weapon was in exceptionally poor shape. Not something that was fit for battle. “What the–? The blade isn’t even sharp!” Sokka wiped his thumb on it for emphasis and held his hand in the air to show off the lack of a cut. “What am I supposed to do with this, paddle the perpetrators?”

“You can take that up with the Crown Prince,” Ozai said, his face locked into a now very familiar glare of frustration. “After what happened last night, Iroh delayed his departure to the Earth Kingdom. He doesn’t trust you. And for now, he’s here to stay.”

“Oh.” Sokka slid the sword back into its sheath.

And, in only a moment he realized how much more dangerous this had become.

 


	6. sons of Azulon

 

–

 

_Fire Lord Azulon called him in the early hours of the morning, well before they would begin any public talks, with strict instructions for privacy. Such meetings weren’t completely out of the ordinary for the Crown Prince, not when receiving advice on his dealings in the military was so commonplace. Some things didn’t need to be spread around to the general officers._

_Iroh dismissed his guards as he stepped into the Fire Lord’s private lounge, walking straight through the silent room and stepping out onto the balcony. His father was waiting for him in a chair overlooking the city, an end table topped with two steaming cups of tea waiting in between the seats. A faint, herbal scent drifted from the inviting drink._

_The Fire Lord didn’t trust the servants to make his favorite blends properly, so he usually dipped into the stock personally. Iroh himself was the only other person to touch it now._

_As for what he pulled out this time…_

_The Prince slipped into his chair, plucking the cup up in his hand, blowing gently on the steam and taking a sip. It was lightly sweet and smooth, and Iroh could recognize camomile with a slight floral undertone. One of father’s hunan silk tea mixes from the private stock no doubt, and one he knew. It probably was not exactly what kind of flavor the citizenry expected from a fearsome and awe-inspiring leader, but Iroh knew better._

_“Mmm, mother’s favorite,” He hummed, setting the cup down for the moment as a calm seeped into his mind._

_The Fire Lord nodded, sampling his own cup. “Indeed,” Azulon’s tone was graver than usual when he spoke, “I often have a cup after a victory, which makes today’s mix more bitter than usual.” He stared out over the balcony, a frown forming visibly on his face, “I had already taken it out of storage when I heard about the little incident with your brother.”_

_Ah, well of course he would want to talk about that._

_Iroh_ had _warned Ozai about the trouble that he was getting into. For all the good that did._

 _“The warrior’s timing_ was _rather impeccable, wasn’t it?” He said thoughtfully, thinking back to how the intruders could have easily stolen the younger Prince away if he had only arrived a few minutes before. It could be a bizarre stroke of luck–brigands were never one hundred percent predictable even if he was almost certain these ones wouldn’t damage a hostage–but that didn’t change the fact that the young man had certainly thrown a wrench into their plans by his very presence. “Apparently well-prepared to get into the palace as well…”_

_“That’s all we need,” Azulon grumbled, sipping at his tea, “rats in the palace, sniffing out holes.” He set the teacup down and crossed his fingers together before his face. “And now Ozai seems keen to even invite them in if what I’ve heard is true.” The Fire Lord’s eyes drifted over to his son in a severe expression, needing confirmation, “Is that true, Iroh?”_

_Iroh hummed. As much as he disapproved of his brother’s decisions, he also didn’t want to cause another incident within the family. And for all of Ozai’s impetuousness, he was correct about the Law._

_Maybe there was a middle ground to be tread here._

_“It is true that Ozai made use of the Conqueror’s Law to claim ownership of the Water Tribe intruder, however…” He’d have to phrase this delicately, “After examining the crime scene this morning and speaking to my brother, I have to conclude the warrior was also responsible for saving his life. Little else would have convinced Ozai to keep him alive. I know my brother enough to know he’d have a personal motivation for that.” If anything, there was more than enough time for the young man to have assassinated the Prince before Iroh arrived if that was his intention. But his father knew this, there was no need to spell it out for him._

_The Fire Lord made no other motion than to close his eyes, probably thinking it through. “Things are rarely as they seem with the Water Tribe. I’ve told you this before.”_

_Iroh knew. The Southern Tribe in particular would have been brought to heel long ago if the people there relied on straightforward, open intentions. The navy could attest to that. They were a nation comprised only of nonbenders by now, and yet…_

_“That’s why, if I may make a suggestion, father,” Iroh began to speak, pausing for permission. A gesture from the older man urged him to continue, “There’s too much we don’t know about him. I would like to wait and observe, allow my brother his...request. If I can ascertain from which Tribe the warrior hails, and their intent by sending him here, it could be very valuable information for the war effort.”_

_“You will have to delay your departure for the Earth Kingdom for some time in order to put this plan of yours into motion,” His father reminded him._

_“Yes, well, I am receiving regular updates from abroad. And all of them tell me that the situation at our current point of advance is already very well in hand. I doubt my presence is strictly necessary at the moment.” A sly grin teased at the man’s mouth as he drained the rest of his cup, “Not to mention that if you allow me to stay and deal with this issue, we’ll also be learning which of the Tribes finally decided to overplay their hand and put themselves at risk.”_

_Azulon went silent for a few moments, thinking through the Crown Prince’s suggestion. When he finally opened his eyes, the Fire Lord fixed his son with his amber gaze and lowered his hands down to the armrests. “I have no desire to see animals being allowed to walk unheeded through my palace. However, your idea has some merit.” Azulon nodded at last, “I will not oppose it. And in time, we will find out who sent this would-be spy, and make them regret it.”_

_Iroh rose from his chair slowly, clasping his hands in a salute, “Of course, Father. No one will be catching us off guard, Water Tribe or not.”_

_He was about to leave when the Fire Lord’s voice called out again, bringing his steps to a halt. “One last thing, my son…” Azulon turned in his chair to face his eldest son, “The moment you discover the manner of harm our intruder intends against our Nation, Ozai’s use of the Law becomes null and void. When that happens, you will find that Water Tribe,_

_and dispose of him.”_

 

* * *

 

The other person who could hardly believe their timing was Sokka himself.

When he first came to the Fire Nation capital to find Ozai, he hadn’t known anything about the ongoing spring festival that had been happening for the past few days. When he made landfall and personally found out, he decided to use the event to his advantage. Sokka had some suspicions that the guards might be more lax (or drunk), and would be easier to sneak past to get into the palace. While he turned out to be mostly right about that, he didn’t know anything about the celebration itself, and wasn’t super keen to find out. Probably just the Fire Nation all puffed up and throwing a party over how good they were at invading countries or something.

What was surprising was finding out that Ozai’s birthday was at the end of that week, tomorrow in fact. It seemed like too much of a wild coincidence for him to have arrived when he did.

Besides the coming-of-age ceremonies, there wasn’t really much celebrating for birthdays in the South, at least, not during Sokka’s time. There was too much work to do to devote a whole day to someone getting older, regardless of who they were.

The Fire Nation clearly did not abide by the same rules.

Ozai was showing him the dining hall that was being set aside for his celebratory feast tomorrow, currently being swept clean and polished in preparation. “They really did go above and beyond for this, huh,” Sokka commented, reading over a long list of food items that would be placed there. It really was an impressive selection. Sokka could even feel his mouth water just looking at it. Too bad he definitely wasn’t going to be invited.

But, judging by the dull look on the Prince’s face, he clearly wasn’t impressed by the coming meal. He even sniffed in disinterest, “Food isn’t a big deal. I can get that any day I want anyway.”

Sokka couldn’t help but be offended, cringing. Also, was it really so much to ask for Ozai to just lower his voice a little? The servants were right there.

“So, what _is_ a big deal then?” Sokka said instead, dropping the list back on the table.

Ozai paused, then gestured for the warrior to follow, stepping out of the dining hall. He took Sokka down a few hallways and over a window on the south-facing side of the palace. “Look out there, over the houses,” He said, pointing into the distance.

“The festival?” Sokka asked, unsure. He really hadn’t pegged Ozai as being the kinda guy who would care about that kind of stuff, but maybe he was mistaken.

“No! Farther out,” The Prince snapped, cutting off Sokka’s line of thought.

Oh, beyond that. It was the harbor of the city. Fire Nation ships passing in and out to unknown destinations, probably off to make things worse for someone out in the world. “The harbor,” Sokka murmured, knowing before Ozai’s confirmation that he was right this time, and not feeling very good about it. He already had a suspicion as to why this would be important.

“Correct,” Ozai said, a note of satisfaction entering his voice. “I can see them coming and going all the way from my room, you know. Soldiers of the Fire Nation fighting for the honor and glory of our country.” The positive expression on his face faded quickly though, “Again and again I’ve made requests to be properly trained so I can accompany them, and yet…” The sour attitude taking over Ozai’s countenance said it all.

And yet, all that Sokka could think then was _‘good.’_

As frustrating that losing his chance to be trained must have been to Ozai, Sokka didn’t see it as a bad thing at all. The less Fire Nation Princes that were out and about in the Earth Kingdom waging war, the better as far as he was concerned. And while he could understand the feeling of being left behind at home while the _real_ warriors went off to fight, Sokka was less than sympathetic in the case of Ozai. At least one of the two of them had a real home and family to protect, and it wasn’t Ozai. Who would he be helping other than himself anyway?

“I actually think the military can decide for themselves who best to employ into their services, Ozai.” A third voice suddenly entered the picture, unannounced. Sokka jumped to attention, turning to find none other than Crown Prince Iroh walking up the corridor, calm as can be.

Last night when Sokka had first confronted the man, he hadn’t the peace of mind to really take him in. Adrenaline took over, and he had felt balanced on the edge of a knife waiting for the man to strike him down on the spot. But now, he was more at ease, and Ozai’s annoyed, crossed-arms stance was a good enough indication that Sokka wasn’t in any danger this time around. Ozai told him that the placement of the Conqueror’s Law would protect him now, but the warrior still didn’t want to let his guard down, just in case.

Facing Iroh like this was...strange, for lack of a better word.

Despite being dark-haired and youthful compared to the older man Sokka met while on his journey, he still recognized them as being the same person. But more...wrong. Even without knowledge of his history, it was instinct that told Sokka that he was looking at someone very _dangerous._ Like coming face to face with a polar leopard out on the ice. He was more overtly threatening the night before, but even like this, Sokka felt flat-footed and unprepared. The man’s expression was perfectly polite, even friendly, but there was something not quite _right_ about it.

“Sokka, I presume?” Iroh addressed him, extending his hand out in a silent request for a shake. That was really more of a Water Tribe greeting. Was Sokka being mocked, or was it just politeness? He couldn’t be sure at all. “I think we may have gotten off on wrong foot the night before. After all, I heard that you were responsible for saving my little brother here. I know that sometimes he can be…” Iroh gave the tense Ozai a sidelong glance, “...complicated, at times.”

Ignoring the irritable noise Ozai made in response, Sokka raised his hand to accept the gesture. He couldn’t be making problems already anyway.

But when the man’s grasp closed around his wrist, Sokka had to bite his inner lip to suppress an involuntary yelp of pain. (But if the man’s expression was anything to go by, he didn’t entirely succeed.) The Crown Prince’s grip was bruisingly tight, almost like he was silently threatening to break his hand. Through it all, Iroh’s face was still pleasant. He couldn’t have been ignorant to what he was doing, even if he acted like it.

No, he knew full well. He had to.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here in the Fire Nation,” Iroh told him, releasing him mildly. Before the man turned away to face Ozai, Sokka thought he saw the suggestion of a smirk on his face.

And in the meantime, Sokka found himself flexing his paled fingers in response, steadily working the circulation back into his arm. Did Sokka already manage to piss him off, or…? He didn’t know what that threat(?) meant. The stirring of paranoia was building up in the back of his mind.

“What do you want, Iroh?” Ozai spoke up, totally blind to the warrior’s plight.

“To extend my apologies for the night before, of course,” Iroh gestured once to Sokka with an outstretched hand without taking his eyes off the younger Prince. “Granted, it would be expected to be on guard in such an unplanned situation, but it’s only polite to patch things up now that I've been informed. Besides, you should also know father has given his blessing for your decision.”

“Well of course he has, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ozai said, defensive. Despite his words however, the teen’s brow was furrowed as though the pronouncement confused him. “He said yes, though? It was that easy? He doesn’t want to lecture me or something this time?”

“Nothing this time,” The older man said, continuing with a light shrug, “but you shouldn’t mock father’s advice, Ozai. You never know when those ‘lectures’ you care so little for might come in handy.” The teenager just groaned, mumbling something quietly under his breath. Iroh sighed. “How about this...I have some free time from my duties today. Why don’t you accompany me to the training hall today? From what you said the other day, it would be a nice change of pace.”

Ozai brightened up for a brief moment before he paused, glancing between the window view and Iroh, looking suspicious, “...Are you serious?”

The older Prince didn’t bother to elaborate, “I’ll leave it up to your discretion, little brother.” He turned on his heel and started walking back the way he came. Ozai met Sokka’s gaze, silently questioning him and the warrior just held up his hands and shrugged in response. He didn’t know what to say. Iroh was difficult to read in the future, and now it was nearly impossible.

As it was Ozai did end up following him, Sokka trailing along behind.

The Crown Prince brought them to a training hall enclosed by a courtyard on the ground floor of the palace. Said hall was open-air of a sort, but the high, overhanging walls of the palace surroundings let in far less light than expected. Unlike any of the other courtyards, this one lacked any real green, (likely because it would go up in flames sooner or later anyway) and the area was paved in smooth dark stone, and the training arena indicated by a ring of metal. A balcony walkway overlooked the hall, adding even more shade.

Guards watched from the sidelines, guarding the three entryways, silent and serious. Sokka noticed them and hung back, sticking close to one of the thick pillars encircling the courtyard, preferring to stay out of the limelight for now. But besides the guards themselves, there were a small-ish crowd of others as well, scattered around in armored regalia, both in the courtyard and above from the balcony. People from the military, maybe?

But if that was the case what were they doing here?

The unexpected presence of other people didn’t pass by Ozai unnoticed either.

The teen stopped just short of the circular arena, casting a glance at them and turning towards his brother, “Is there a reason why we have an audience, Iroh?”

“Indeed there is,” Iroh replied, removing the crimson mantle from his shoulders and handing it off to an attendant who stepped up from the sidelines to take it silently. The man rolled his shoulders and stepped into the center of the arena, gesturing for his brother to join him. “How can I know that you’re ready for the real training before having a little evaluation first?”

“So...that’s the catch, isn’t it?” Ozai muttered, gaze drifting over those watching.

“It’s just a simple test, Ozai,” Iroh chided him. And if it weren’t the edged look in his eyes, his tone would have been disarming. He even caught Sokka’s eye once, as if reminding the warrior that he hadn’t forgotten his presence there. “If you’re really so ready to move on to the next level as you claim, this should be an easy evaluation for you to pass. You don’t even need to win; all that you need to do is get off one good strike and I’ll declare you ready.”

It looked like Ozai was on the verge of a snarl after that last sentence. As it was, his expression spelled out his thoughts anyway. He wanted to win. Ozai stepped up to his place without another word, assuming a firebending stance to mirror the older Prince in preparation.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The two only faced each other at either end of the arena.

Sokka watched closely from his place, eyes narrowed.

Ozai took the first initiative, leaping into action, sweeping a leg to produce a gout of flame, which Iroh sidestepped in a single motion. The moment that he found his footing again, Ozai pushed forward aggressively, his fists wreathed in fire. He was on the offensive, striking repeatedly, trying to catch the older man off-guard.

Iroh, for his part, was only guarding and deflecting instead of responding. But while in a more normal situation–if this were a more evenly sided match–this would be a point against him, the man in question looked unbothered. Whatever Ozai threw at him was easily knocked aside, over and over again. And, for some reason, seeing that casual nature made Sokka uneasy.

A memory rose, unbidden, of the last moment of calm Team Avatar had before Sozin’s Comet fell.

Him and his friends, sitting in a circle, listening to Iroh himself outline what needed to be done to save the world. The last day before he lost his friends.They had fished for an idea of what to do after the Avatar vanished so unexpectedly. Zuko had brought up bringing Iroh with them to face the Fire Lord, which he had turned down in favor of Aang’s return.

But it wasn’t the plan itself that popped into his mind.

Sokka remembered all too clearly what Iroh’s response was to the suggestion of him fighting Fire Lord Ozai himself: _“Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don't know that I could…”_ There was no real confidence in that voice, no certainty, but a lot left implied by his hesitance. It cut a stark contrast to the Iroh that Sokka saw before him now. And that wasn’t even touching on his brother’s condition at all, and comparing it to the future…  

Sure he was a kid now, but still...where did all that power come from?

How had the Crown Prince reacted when he realized he couldn’t deflect Ozai like that anymore?

Sokka’s thoughts skid to a halt, blinking widely at the arena when the duel reached its inevitable conclusion. Iroh had apparently tired of testing the younger Prince, batting aside a strike with his right hand and directing it away with his left. Unbalanced, Ozai was unprepared for the following sweep to his knees, knocking his legs out from under him to land in an ungraceful heap.

It was over.

Ozai slammed a hand into the ground, red-faced and humiliated. A few of the onlookers had already started to drain out, realizing that the test was done with. But they had seen enough. And Sokka realized with a dull certainty that this had always been the intended ending to this meeting, thus the audience. But why? Did the man really act so spiteful in his youth, or did the Crown Prince and Fire Lord really hate the idea of training him enough to discourage him in this way?

And then Sokka’s expression darkened, apathetic. The warrior wouldn’t be giving sympathy to _him_ of all people regardless. He was just being objective.

“Better luck next time, little brother,” Iroh said loftily, turning away. Ozai was seething, glaring at his brother’s back as though his gaze alone could set it aflame. And even from the little time that Sokka had spent in his presence, he suddenly had an understanding of what the beaten Prince was about to do. Sokka straightened up, a shout forming in his mind.

But he needn’t have bothered.

Because the moment that Ozai attacked, Iroh reacted, spinning around and seizing the teen by the wrist, cutting off his oncoming flame before it even started. “A back attack? Ozai, don’t insult me like this.” Iroh released him, letting the teen stumble away as he yanked his hand back. “But...if you really are so determined, maybe a secondary test is in order,” He turned, meeting Sokka’s gaze head-on, much to Sokka’s surprise. “How about we have the new guardian show us what he’s capable of?”

“W-wait, you mean me?” The warrior started, holding up his hands and taking a step back. But Iroh didn’t pay his confusion any mind, gesturing to one of the royal guards nearby to come up on stage, and an assistant produced a pair of wooden training swords from a weapons rack along the far wall.

Ozai was stomping off the stage, defeated, yet still with a determined look in his eyes. When he got near enough, he grabbed ahold of Sokka’s shoulder and growled in a low voice, “Don’t you dare go easy on him. Understand?”

Sokka was still flushed from being put on the spot, but nodded jerkily.

He didn’t really have a choice but to do it.

But as it turned out, fighting a guardsman was nothing compared to fighting master Piandao.

Sokka didn’t fight very many swordsmen–most Fire Nation troops he battled tended to use spears instead, so he never really had a scale to measure them by, but the moment he picked up the sword and the duel began, he knew that guards were on an entirely different scale. The flat, unobtrusive arena was a poor substitute for the creativity of fighting across bridges and gardens, but that didn’t stop Sokka from finding his footing and coming out on top. And moments later, the training sword clattered out of the man’s hands as he held the blunt tip to his throat.

Iroh wasn’t satisfied with just one loss though, and sent several more soldiers onto the field, one by one. Each guard glared in offense at Sokka at the duel’s end, and no one in the watching crowd seemed particularly happy about it either. Sokka, for his part, merely rubbed at his neck, feeling lips twitching into a lopsided smile at their spite, utterly unrepentant.

And the whole time, the serious look never left Iroh’s eyes until he finally nodded with acceptance. “I’ll admit, Ozai, your new guard is effective. Acquire a few more viable escorts and I might consider at least one of your requests,” Iroh said, and all at once, the intensity in his eyes faded. “But, unfortunately, that’s all the time I have today. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, little brother. It’s a special day, after all.”

“Whatever,” Ozai grumbled at his brother’s back as he departed, gesturing impatiently for Sokka to follow him out of the courtyard.

Sokka handed off the practice sword and made to follow, huffing.

If today was a sneak-peak of what to expect in the Fire Nation then he really wasn’t looking forward to watching his step 24/7 thanks to Iroh. It just made his job more complicated.

The warrior glanced up, breathing out, and his eyes caught on a figure watching from the balcony walkway.

Unlike the rest of the audience, who had more or less already left, or were in the process of doing so, this person had Sokka fixed in a judgemental, superior stare. He also appeared to be a teenager–Sokka’s age or a year or two older maybe–with dark brown hair and umber eyes. He acknowledged Sokka’s awareness with an unruffled frown and crossed arms, turning on his heel and leaving.

He didn’t recognize the stranger’s face at all, but the strange chill in Sokka’s chest made him feel like he should. Some kind of icy sensation, hovering over his left shoulder.

“Sokka!” The sharp snap of Ozai’s voice brought his attention back around, “What are you doing? I’m leaving, so hurry up!”

Sokka sighed, strange feeling quickly going forgotten and sped up into a jog to catch up with the Prince. Now he was–for good or for worse–just a little bit more infamous than the day before.

 

-


	7. slayer's redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly bringing in more characters....

 

 

-

After the bad joke of a meeting that was Ozai’s supposed ‘training session,’ the Prince had more or less lost interest in getting his new bodyguard acclimated anymore, or even so much as speaking to him. He was stewing on his loss hard. Sokka was summarily dismissed back to the guardhouse without another word, and the two of them went their separate ways for the day.

Being defeated in that way clearly affected him enough not to be venting about it.

Regardless, Sokka couldn’t be bothered with the Prince’s tumultuous moods, and decided that it was best that he made some headway on his job instead of worrying about it. It was as much for the warrior’s self-interest as much as his employer’s. With the abruptness of Ozai’s various moods, Sokka wouldn’t put it past him to kick his own savior out on his butt if he didn’t make any progress with the investigation; Ozai obviously wasn’t the patient type.

Sokka’s first step was acquiring a guard roster from the barracks so he could reference the schedules of the patrols, and get a list of their names. That way he would know who exactly was on duty on the night of the attack. From there, it became a matter of cross-examining the guards themselves and looking for inconsistencies in their stories. He could always try throwing around the Prince’s name to add some more authority to his interviews.

Sometime soon Sokka would have to do a bit of research on the Conqueror’s Law, as Ozai’s explanation wasn’t quite enough for him. It would help to know a bit of history if there happened to be an unpleasant loophole somewhere that the Prince would spring on him in the near future. The guards already knew Ozai brought him here as a kind of special case, considering his very public release from prison and ranked armor, so most of them probably wouldn’t make trouble for him.

Maybe. There was still the fact that he was Water Tribe, after all.

Even none of them were  _ directly responsible,  _ Sokka could narrow down the list of suspects, look for gaps in the security net someone might have left, and get some clues in the process.

And something was always better than nothing.

It was surprisingly easy to get the roster after bringing up the Prince. Apparently, the captain of the guard had little interest in dealing with whatever unusual jobs the warrior was up to. “Just take it and get out of my office,” The man told him, handing Sokka an ink-blotted roll of parchment and gesturing toward the door. The one and only visible mark against him was the activity sheet the man had him fill out to keep track of his request. Sokka could have done without that detail, but the legitimacy of doing things by the book might help him at this stage. And there was a certain appeal in making it seem like he was simply concerned for the Prince’s safety.

As strange and off-putting that was for him to ponder.

As it was, roster in hand, there wasn’t much he could do that day. The time was already passing into the evening hour, sun set and the last traces of colorful dusk fading into the night. Most of the guards he needed to interrogate were either asleep or on-duty, and thus unavailable to talk.

But, even if he couldn’t talk to his targets, there was still someone important he could see.

Sokka ducked out of the barracks building that night, using the cover of encroaching darkness to make his way out of the busier upper streets and away from the public eye. Normally, he would have stopped there, but the night was warm and Sokka wanted to be closer to the water. He made his way to a borderline of rocky outcroppings that formed the outer ring of the capital city, peering over the edge of the valley and overlooking the sea.

It was a great view. Perfect for satisfying his late night excursion.

The wide-open sight and sprawling slopes leading down to the water energized him.

Sokka sat down partly under the shadow of one of those crags, resting with his elbows balanced on his knees, waiting as the luminous form of the moon grew brighter as stars sparkled into sight. He waited as a cool–yet somewhat out of place–breeze heralded her return.

In another moment, Yue was there beside him, fading into existence as smoothly as though she were there the whole time. But then, she said that was exactly it. Yue never went anywhere.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” Sokka confessed, his stressed expression softening the moment their eyes met.

“I’m never far,” Yue assured him. “I did tell you before that...I’m with you every step of the way, even when we can’t talk to each other.” Her form glittered in the light, even now that she was reduced from being as powerful as a Moon spirit. “It seems like a lot has changed since the last time we got to talk. I’m glad you managed to find an agreement with the Prince.”

Sokka sighed, leaning back against the rock wall. “Agreement? I don’t know,” The warrior mumbled, thinking about Ozai’s difficult emotions, his selfish attitude, and the absolute mess that was the entire royal family. “He’s a big pain in the butt, and I can’t even look at him without thinking of…” He trailed off, distinctly aware of the spirit girl’s curious gaze on him, “Never mind...as it is, I haven’t even tried to bring up the war. I know a losing fight when I see one.”

It wouldn’t be hard to guess what Ozai thought of the war. The majority of any negative words Sokka had heard him say about the conflict had everything to do with being jealous he wasn’t involved. He couldn’t even begin to guess how hard it would be to turn him away.

It wasn’t until recently that Sokka  _ really  _ considered how long this mission of his might take, how long he would be stuck in the past of a country he wasn’t welcome in.

But Yue’s voice was soothing when she replied, “Don’t worry about everything right now, Sokka. You have plenty of time. Focus on the most pressing thing first and let the rest come later. Don’t stress yourself out fast before you’ve even begun,” She said, speaking to the young man’s paranoia and racing thoughts. Yue smiled in encouragement, “Don’t you think what you’ve accomplished so far is helpful? Standing as a guard at the Prince’s side?”

“I...I suppose it is,” Sokka admitted, as much as he was thinking about what he had to deal with later. There was a lot he could do from his position, even it wasn’t wholly pleasant.

For a moment, they shared the silence, the cool breeze drifting in from the south.

Sokka was taken out of his thoughts as he caught Yue shifting beside him, looking uncomfortable. He gave her a concerned stare and the girl smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry Sokka. I was just thinking about what happened earlier, in the courtyard…”

“Are...you talking about the duel? It did say a lot about the Crown Prince I suppose…”

Yue shook her head, “The duel was what I’d call...eye-opening, but it’s not what I was worried about at the time.” Her expression turned a touch nervous, avoiding his eye. “It happened after your swordsmanship was all over, and everyone was leaving. You looked up, and saw someone among the watchers. I knew them. I had a...a bit of a negative reaction, and I know that you managed to feel it. It must have been...uncomfortable for you.”

Sokka paused, remembering how he’d hesitated, blinked up into the over lookers, and met the eye of a young man with dark eyes. Nothing about the encounter had stood out to him except what came after. When he had the warrior had that feeling, that unexpected burning chill. As if, for a few scant seconds, he was back in the South with a cold wind whipping around his body.

He hadn’t realized it was Yue who did that, but in hindsight, it should have been obvious to him. What other unseen presence could inflict a very real icy sensation in the Fire Nation?

But what sparked that reaction was yet to be accounted for. “I’m not upset, just...confused I guess. Who could’ve…” Sokka stopped, trailing off. The young man had to be someone who would be an adult in their lifetimes, who Yue had to have seen while she was alive and human to illicit the kind of pain he felt before. And like a flash, it came to him, “No, you don’t mean…”

Yue nodded, “That person was Zhao, the man who killed Tui. The invader of my home, and the reason I became like this.” She rubbed at her fingers listlessly, filling her pause.

Oh yes, Sokka remembered.

And to be honest, he could never really forget.

The wash of fire that sealed Yue’s fate, the foolish and irrational anger he felt toward the old man when Iroh pointed out the connection between the girl and the fallen spirit, and the last time her ever got to touch her. Not even granted the decency of a proper memorial when her body faded away, like Yue had never been there at all.

The girl turned spirit looked over at him, regretfully, “I’m sorry, Sokka. I was there at the end of things; I was there with you when Fire Lord Ozai burned the world. I shouldn’t have made it seem like your anger wasn’t justified, when I still feel like this.” She closed her eyes, shame-faced, “I was being hypocritical, even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

But Sokka couldn’t possibly blame her for that. “I’m not going to blame you for being upset, Yue,” he told her. He wasn’t any better, “I still am too, to tell you the truth. And I’m not forgetting about it in a hurry either. They’re emotions like any other, and I think–considering things–that you handled them pretty well. It’s not like you lashed out at anyone, and you didn’t  _ intend  _ for me to catch the backlash of your pain, right?” Yue nodded, confirming it quietly. “Right; in my experiences with it, spirity stuff is rarely predictable. Besides, you were still  _ right _ about Ozai. I...I do need him in one piece, no matter how much it hurts, or how much he annoys me.”

“But then, what are we going to do about Zhao?” She asked, still anxious.

Sokka only needed to think about it for a moment, “I think you had the right idea from the beginning. One thing at a time.” Yue relaxed at his words, her expression easing into a smile. “If Zhao becomes a problem for us,  _ then  _ we’ll deal with it. But until then, one step at a time.”

They still had a Prince to deal with.

 

* * *

 

 

The following day was Prince Ozai’s birthday.

To hold this, an opulent gathering was held in the palace grounds, hosted in one of the adjoining buildings, one only meant for celebrations. It was one that only the royal family and the upper class were invited to partake in.

Ozai certainly wasn’t the one who invited them.

In fact, he didn’t even personally know most of the people who showed up, even if some of the family names were familiar enough. It was traditional that the palace extended a hand to those who lived in the inner city for certain events, regardless of how much or how little they contributed to the family personally, but that didn’t mean any of them actually belonged there.

If it weren’t for how they looked, some may have deserved to be there less than his warrior did.

Or at least, of the two distinctions, someone was actually making themselves useful.

But that was a pointless thing to fuss over; with the royal family’s attendance, someone from the Water Tribe–even one that Ozai claimed firm ownership of by Law–wouldn’t be allowed to take one step inside. The Fire Lord made absolutely certain of that. “Keep your stray outside where it doesn’t dirty up the carpet,” Father had said, standing placidly nearby as the young handmaid finished adjusting the Prince’s silken attire. “Having an interest in exotic pets is difficult enough already; don’t make the situation any worse.” His youngest avoided his eyes tensely.

Ozai had no intention of testing his decree and asking to bend the rules, not even when father had approved the Law without fuss. For all that he had shown portions of disapproval when talking to Sokka, Ozai had learned over the years not to question his father to his face.

Eventually you learned that you just don’t do that to Azulon.

Unfortunately, that meant that Ozai had no one to converse with but upper class strangers.

Besides the general guards on standby and business-like military guests, the ever-elusive Xu family and their daughter who flitted in an out of sight among the fringes, most of the party-goers didn’t meet Ozai’s requirements of actually being interesting.

Some of them surely fit the description of a crude slang term he’d overheard from the serving staff: schmoozers. Upper class who served little real purpose in the court aside from throwing some money around occasionally to help support the military, and probably for personal gain at the same time. They accomplished this by sucking up to their betters and putting their best face forward (likely because the hidden one would be unpleasant to look at for him).

The problem was that Ozai was not yet adept enough at picking apart which ones were genuine and which weren’t at all.

A lot had what he’d called the “Iroh look.” Polite and gracious enough, but with the attitude of someone who was “hiding something” under the surface. But did he already know enough about high society to know that  _ some of them  _ were being deceptive.

Thankfully, the nobles that weren’t worth his time usually made themselves known by seeking out an audience with his brother anyway. And having the gall to use  _ his  _ birthday as an excuse.

The Prince wouldn’t admit it, but part of him was nervous that the reason why none of them wanted a decent conversation that wasn’t basic politeness was because Iroh’s humiliation of him at the arena had already infected the upper class rumor mill. There was nothing pleasant about the idea that he’d have to contend with an already spoiled reputation on a celebration. But thankfully, there was nothing to confirm that Iroh’s machinations were responsible just yet.

Speaking of his brother and his various hangers-on’s…

Ozai stood over the long banquet table that took up the center of the room, casting his gaze around until he found the older man. Iroh was standing near one corner of the hall amid a circle of guests, smiling and talking casually about some story or another, a steaming drink held in his hand. Ozai thought he looked so smug, standing there like that, having successfully stood in his brother’s way yet again, not a care in the world. The mere sight set a taste in his throat bitterer than the sting of wine on his tongue. Iroh may have beaten him, but one would think that having his soldiers thrashed by Ozai’s warrior would dampen the spring in his step.

The Prince blinked, momentarily sidelined by this line of thinking.

Iroh did in fact lose the secondary test, didn’t he? His soldiers were certainly defeated.

Ozai didn’t know exactly why he’d bothered to test Sokka in the first place...unless it was just an excuse to take him away from the younger Prince if the warrior failed to pass the fight. But there was no reason not to just do it outright if that was the case. Ozai didn’t see the reasoning there. But maybe it was as simple as Iroh just felt like annoying him again.

Either way, Sokka did succeed and–in whatever small way–could have thrown Iroh’s plan for him into disarray. He should be...rewarded for that, right? That’s what a Lord did for a capable vassal, right? Sokka hadn’t mentioned wanting to be paid for his service in any way other than bed and board (not even with a soldier’s commission–which shouldn’t be too hard to manage if the Prince was so inclined), and Ozai hadn’t thought to bring it up at the time either. In all realness, Ozai didn’t have to bother; he already had the right to do whatever with him insofar as the Law was concerned, but it was the first time he’d ever called Conqueror’s Law and the act of annoying Iroh in whatever small way piqued his generosity just a tad.

What would be acceptable? Ozai didn’t want to give him more than he deserved for one day…

The Prince remembered the previous day, during their talk in the dining hall, seeing his newfound guard drooling over a list of food of all things like an idiot. There was an idea.

He looked over the sprawling feast, food which Ozai already knew wouldn’t be finished by the nobility and their trained to be minimal appetites. No one would care about it if there was a bit missing from the table. That was good enough.

Ozai called over one of the serving girls and directed her to collect a mixed portion from the table. Among the platters laid out were roast pig-hen garnished with onion and matsutake mushrooms, blue tuna and seared roe, and seasoned stir-fry. The young woman assembled a plate, taking a bit from each dish, and covering the assortment with a rounded lid. “Where would you like me to take this, my Prince?” She asked, inclining her head respectfully.

“Take it to room twelve in the barracks and leave it there,” Ozai told her, already turning away. That should satisfy him. No one could accuse him of going overboard with just a little food.

He stepped out of the limelight, tired of the pointless guests enough to sequester himself somewhere on the fringes where there was still some remaining privacy.

A voice from his blind spot made him take pause, “Taking care of an errand, your Highness?” Ozai turned quickly upon hearing it, finding an older teenager standing before him, bearing a confident smile and umber eyes. The Prince didn’t recognize him from any previous gatherings, but then, he didn’t usually bother to take stock of everyone there. And maybe Ozai had seen him before? That would be the only reasonable explanation for the tone of familiarity in his voice. “My apologies for not announcing myself, Your Highness,” He continued, sounding contrite, “but I had hoped to catch an audience before the festivities had concluded.”

“If this is about my brother again…” Ozai trailed off, letting his obvious displeasure fill in the blanks for him. Agni forbid someone wanted to talk to him about something that  _ didn’t  _ have to do with the man on his own birthday. He was already at his limit with that.

“It isn’t,” The young man said, and Ozai reflexively relaxed just a tad. “I’m curious if my Prince would be willing to entertain a...political venture of sorts. I’ve been planning this opportunity for quite some time, and I think the result could be beneficial to both of us.”

Ozai’s brow rose, intrigued. A political direction...with him? “And...who are you again?”

The young man’s smile stuttered for a moment before he regained himself, “Apologies, we met briefly before but...never mind. I am Zhao Tai, and the only heir of my line, Your Highness.”  

Nope, didn’t ring a bell.

The family line he recognized–if only by their name–but he thought they were on the lesser scale of nobility, not much pull. Well, as audiences went, as least it was something.

Ozai gestured for him to continue, curious about the offer regardless.

“Word has made the rounds that you have been seeking the chance to go abroad,” Zhao opened. The Prince cringed a little; all of his railroaded attempts were stewing in the rumor mill after all. But the next words made him perk up. “I have an associate in the military who owns a private cruiser, and between the two of us, we have the connection to hire a crew for an expedition.” His grin crooked, and slowly spread his hands before him, “My ally informed me that he found the location of a rebel cache. Imagine how it would sound if, on his first trek into unknown waters, the young Prince of the Fire Nation located a valuable resource of the Earth Kingdom. It could open doors...for the both of us.”

An expedition. In any other situation, it would have been more innocuous, but coming from the mouth of a member of the nobility, the word had a certain additional connotation. Upper class who made partnerships with commanders on ‘expeditions’ were often seeking to form connections with the military to help advance themselves, or fulfill favors. They usually came with an excuse in the form of a weak outpost to take, or an enemy cache needing acquisition, or something similar. But the point of the journey was advancement and an increase in personal connections; the excuse itself was just used as mostly PR to satisfy others’ curiosity.

Ozai knew about this because he’d seen certain families try to get a step up by appealing to his brother, and the education that came after that. He didn’t remember any of them not being turned down though. “Really…” The young Prince considered it. This wasn’t  _ precisely  _ the type of venture he was looking for, but it could be just what he needed. “You should know that the Fire Lord and the Crown Prince haven’t been very...open to the idea of me leaving the capital.”

“That was before you gained access to an able ship and crew, though, am I right?” Zhao asked, raising his hand in a questioning gesture. “More connections mean a greater chance of success. They would be remiss to let an opportunity to let you prove yourself pass by.”

Considering what happened the previous day on the training ground, Ozai wasn’t sure of that.

He didn’t respond, still weighing the options.

The other teen seemed to understand his doubt and spoke up, “I’ll give you some time to think it over. Though it would be a great honor for me to have a Prince with your potential sailing with me, we don’t have to rush things.” Zhao snagged a drink from a passing serving girl, his smile fading to something more subtle and relaxed. “My associate’s ship will remain in port for the next month, if you come to a decision in that time. In the meantime, we will send requests to the Fire Lord for official permissions. It might help to create a change of heart.”

Ozai felt somewhat surprised; the noble seemed very determined to make this happen. It was surprising for someone to actually approach him with a venture, but one thing was for sure–it was a long time coming. After all the nonsense of the palace, Ozai deserved a lucky break.

“I appreciate your offer,” Ozai returned, “and no one is more eager to see my father’s mind to change than me.” Still, if they were able to sway his brother and father, that still left the issue of the investigation Sokka was dealing with. It was frustrating to admit that the warrior had him seeing a potential foe where there shouldn’t be one, but he didn’t want to go and leave a job unfinished either when they hadn’t found anything yet. Either way, with his performance before, bringing the eccentric guard with him would be recommended if the voyage became a confirmed option. “I’ll have to inform my warrior as well, he could be useful on a ship…”

At the mention of the Water Triber, Zhao’s expression seemed to dull, some of the confident energy leaking out of him. “Oh, that one.” He took a sip from his glass, suddenly less forward, “Is it strictly necessary to bring along an out-of-place Water Tribe outlander? Have you heard the talk about their kind? There are all sorts of odd or unpleasant rumors floating about the court.”

Ozai frowned, not liking to the mention of “rumors” of all things.

How was he supposed to trust a rumor?

Silly talk that the upper class engaged in together to waste time wasn’t useful to him, and unconfirmed besides. Ozai had enough standards not to get involved.

“I don’t make a point to listen to the rambling of maid gossip or nattering old hens,” The Prince said shortly, bringing Zhao’s attention back to his face. The noble families had already spread around gossip about  _ him.  _ What reason was there to listen to what they thought of his vassal, especially when he already knew it was negative? “I’d do better than to concern myself with circulating hearsay. For now at least, he’s proven to be too useful to simply toss to the side.”

Despite his previous discomfort, Zhao was quick to pacify him, “Of course my Prince, I didn’t mean to question your choice in guards. I was simply...curious if what they say is true. Not many people in the capital have seen a Water Tribe before, after all.” Ozai didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what these rumors concerning Sokka’s kind consisted of, but he didn’t bother to ask. It could just be along similar lines to what his father already told him, and a repeat of that lecture wasn’t on his list of priorities. “I may have to make a few adjustments to my requests and talk to the crew, but it shouldn’t be much of a change,” Zhao continued, amicably. “He wasn’t in my initial plans, but rest assured, I have no desire to inconvenience you.”

With the hiccup in their deal quickly smoothed over, talk turned to less pressing things, like firebending forms. The Prince was pleased to find someone there he could actually hold a conversation with, and the day passed without further incident.

When the two of them went their separate ways and the party wound down to its conclusion, Ozai was actually looking forward to the chance to depart on a real expedition.

Sure, they still had yet to turn the opinion of the Fire Lord, but he had a better chance with Zhao’s supporters than he did by himself. And, if nothing else, father should at least be happy that Ozai would be taking the Water Tribe warrior out of the capital for a time, right? Even if he said yes to the Law, that didn’t mean Azulon was enjoying it in the slightest.

Maybe he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but Ozai still fixated on it.

He needed one lucky break.

 

* * *

 

Little did he know that Zhao was also gambling on getting a lucky break, one that he didn’t want to share with a Water Tribe warrior. 

 


End file.
